


The Moon Knows Best

by darth_healer



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 17:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 48
Words: 211,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_healer/pseuds/darth_healer
Summary: The Moon has played a cruel trick on Madara. He's still home, but it's not the same. Instead of a tranquil forest, there's a colorful vibrant village. Instead of the cliffside he knows so well, it's a collection of Senju faces, one of which belongs to his good friend Hashirama. And instead of Hashirama, Madara is saddled with a very interesting, pink-haired girl.MadaSaku in which young Madara goes forward through time.





	1. Chapter 1

Madara wiped the sweat from his brow, inadvertently pouring a splash of water from his canteen onto his sunburned scalp. The sun had absolutely baked him – he could feel a fine sheen of silky sweat coating his bare chest.

“Alright, you buffoon, you can get off me now.”

Hands swatted roughly at his chest, pushing Madara until he fell onto his rump beside Hashirama, who looked less than pleased to have lost their sparring match.

“You stink,” Hashirama said with just the barest hint of a pout.

“That’s the smell of a winner, my friend,” Madara said with a wicked grin. He got up to his feet and held out his hand to Hashirama, who took it with begrudging grace.

“By my count, I’ve still got a sizeable lead over you, Mada-kun,” Hashirama said teasingly. “Don’t get all cocky just because you’ve won one spar.”

Madara gave a sidelong glance to his childhood friend, holding back a happy, easy smile. The sun was beginning to set now. They had been out here on the cliffs all day.

It had been well over a year since Madara had unlocked his Sharingan. It had been over a year since he had decided that it would be acceptable to kill Hashirama should they meet in battle again.

Several times they had met in battle, and every time had been a victory for Hashirama. Every time Hashirama had hesitated. He just couldn’t deliver that killing blow. Little did he know that a little piece of Madara died every single time he was defeated in battle, depending on his friend to stay his hand.

Should Madara ever win, he would do no such thing.

This didn’t count, of course. These secret rendezvous, the illicit sparring sessions – it was all a distraction, yet practice at the same time. Even if he and Hashirama were friends, they could not live in peace together.

They were friends. That was how Madara had awakened his Sharingan, after all – a debt he would always owe Hashirama.

But the war was coming to a close soon, and neither of them could say what the result would be, whether something would change between them – or one of them ended up dead. Likely himself, Madara thought dryly.

Hashirama turned and met Madara’s gaze, and for a moment, something deep inside Madara cracked, something hard yet fragile, something buried so deeply that he couldn’t identify it.

“Do you think one day we’ll actually do it?” he asked Hashirama.

Hashirama swiped the canteen from Madara’s hand and took a long, loud, gulping swig. “Do what?” he asked, pushing it back toward Madara’s chest.

“Establish peace?” Madara asked. “Create a place where children don’t have to fight their parents’ wars?”

A cloud passed between the sun and the earth, casting a shadow over Hashirama’s face. It was a real shame, Madara thought, because Hashirama was the type of man who belonged to the sun. The shadows did him no justice.

“Of course we will,” Hashirama said.

Madara frowned but Hashirama sounded so sure of himself that Madara didn’t have the heart to disagree.

///

Moonlight found Madara on the same cliff later that evening. Hashirama had gone, ran off to meet his brother and the rest of his family for dinner some time ago. Madara thought of his own brother, Izuna, probably somewhere lamenting his older brother’s absence. Izuna was like that – always clinging, wanting to know where Madara was.

But Madara just wasn’t in the mood for that right now. Something about his sparring session with Hashirama earlier had gotten under his skin. They were enemies, except they weren’t, and they were getting nowhere. The thought of having to kill Hashirama gutted him, and Madara hardened his heart around that weakness, caking bitterness and fear and shame around it until the vision of Hashirama in his head was only one of vengeance and anger.

It didn’t exactly work. Madara knew Hashirama didn’t want to kill him either. But what choice did they have? There was only one way to end a war once it had started.

And if Madara understood one thing about war and life and peace and friendship, it was that the only thing that truly mattered was power.

Hashirama and Madara could love each other all they wanted – and they did, Madara believed. But it didn’t matter. War would claim at least one of them, and leave the other shattered. Or they’d both end up dead.

Madara reared back his fist and slammed it into a nearby tree, shattering the bark into rigid shards that exploded into the air around him. If he wanted to protect Izuna, he had to kill Hashirama. The Senju were stronger. They had more support. It didn’t matter that their leader frequently snuck away to engage in friendly spars and conversation with the Uchiha leader – the enemy’s leader.

If Madara wasn’t careful, he would find himself defeated. Would Hashirama kill him? Or would he stay his hand for the sake of friendship like he always did?

He peered up into the moon’s face, ignoring the blood dripping from his knuckles. He barely felt it. All he felt was the moon’s righteousness, the way it seemed to caress his skin like satin and ink and milky tea.

Something about the moon was different, he thought, vaguely aware of something amiss. Was that Hashirama’s face he was seeing in the moon? No, Hashirama belonged as much to the sun as any other creature of light did. Madara mused for a moment that it was his own face in the moon, and he cocked his head to the side, peering at it with curiosity.

There was a face there, alright – one that seemed garishly cartoonish and ugly. He wondered briefly if he had been captured in some sort of genjutsu, something he hadn’t immediately noticed.

He rubbed at his eyes with sweaty palms, wincing as they began to sting under his less than gentle ministrations. His vision blurred. When his sight returned, the moon’s face had tilted on an axis, facing farther away from him now.

He was hardly sure that it was a face at all anymore. He felt rather silly for thinking there was a face there at all. This was the moon, after all, and the moon was Madara’s in the same way that the sun was Hashirama’s. He couldn’t explain what he meant by that, only that it was unerringly true. The moon was his.

Said moon still harbored a face somewhere in its rocky craters, and Madara squinted his eyes to see it better, filled with a sudden and unwelcome confusion. He had seen the moon a million times, and never had there ever been a face on it.

As he continued to stare at it, he felt a sort of drowsiness – the kind that naturally followed a day of heavy sparring (and perhaps some angry tree punching). Madara could think of nothing unnatural about being sleep at a time like this, so it was with what he presumed was common sense that he sat down beneath the tree he had just punched, and settled against the moss that had grown up from its trunk.

The moon was cheeky and bright tonight, and there was a bit of a chill in the air – a bit unusual for this time of year, Madara noted.

But then his eyes were closing. His lids felt far to heavy to hold open for much longer, and looking at the moon hurt now on account of its insane brightness. Madara just wanted to sleep, just for a second.

If only, he thought, he could harness the power of the moon like this and make people sleepy, like a genjutsu. If he could, then maybe he wouldn’t have to be at war with the Senju. Maybe he could create a place with no war, and no moon or sun at all. Just peace.

The thought made a smile tug at the corner of his lips. It stayed there as he fell asleep with only the half face on the moon there to see it.

///

Madara’s eyes had been welded shut. With the pads of his fingers, her rubbed at the sharp crust in the corners of his eyes, trying to hold back a wave of nausea. The earth seemed to tilt precariously beneath him and when he was finally able to tear his eyes open, the sun burned them.

He hissed as he carefully made his way to his feet, bracing his hand against the mossy trunk beside him.

Blearily, he surveyed the cliffside. The sun was high overhead now, at least noon, Madara gauged. Had he really slept for so long? Madara couldn’t ever remember oversleeping. In fact, insomnia prevented him from sleeping at all most nights.

In spite of the fact that he hadn’t slept well in some time, the long nap had not been so kind to him. His body still ached, his bones creaked and popped with every move he made. He felt as though he’d just been beaten to a pulp, but other than the friendly spar with Hashirama, he could think of nothing that would have left him in such condition.

Still a little confused, Madara began to amble back toward home when a peal of laughter rang out in the woods behind him.

It was definitely girlish, and definitely didn’t belong up here on the cliffside. This was too far from any camps for children to be wandering, and with the ongoing war it was a dangerous place to be.

Merely curious, Madara scanned the woods with his Sharingan, masking his chakra quickly in case something more sinister was lurking out there.

He spotted her nestled in the complex curves of some tree roots, reclined back against them with casual leisure. In one hand she held a book, tittering at something on the pages. The other hand cradled the back of her head.

There was something unexpected about her that caught Madara off guard. He held his breath as he watched her. It wasn’t the clothing, the likes of which he had never seen before. It wasn’t even the pink hair, which, even though Madara would never have admitted to finding it aesthetically pleasing aloud, suited her well.

It must have been the weapons pouch hanging from her hip, the shin and wrist guards that denoted a more lethal woman than the pink hair would have him believe. She was a kunoichi.

But she was also reading, her guard completely down as Madara slunk into the shadows to observe her some more. What was she doing here? Was she a Senju?

She laughed again as she turned the page of her book. She crossed and uncrossed her legs while Madara watched. There was something pleasurable about watching her, and Madara understood his innate desire to, well, mate with her to put it simply. He was a man, after all – a man who had no sisters, whose mother had passed away some time ago. Rarely had he encountered women on the battlefield, and even when he had, he’d never quite admired them like this.

Suddenly she sat up, snapping her book shut. She let out an expletive, which made Madara’s brow rise with amusement.

The girl stood and began to make her way out of the woods, stepping dangerously close to the tree Madara had been perched in. He shook his head, less than impressed by her perception.

His gaze followed her through the trees, and when she had emerged, he crept closer to the edge of the woods. Instead of taking the dirt path—

Madara blinked, realizing that there was no dirt path. Just the day before, he had used it to climb up to the cliffside to meet with Hashirama, and now it was gone.

He had hardly a moment to think about that as the pink haired girl made straight for the cliff’s edge.

“Stop!” he yelled, just as she appeared to be jumping over the edge of it. The girl froze, and Madara froze, too, surprised at himself for the outburst. Stopping a girl from committing suicide was really more of a Hashirama kind of thing, but he wasn’t here right now and Madara could at least try.

He stepped out from the woods, revealing himself to her in the full light of day.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he asked, sounding more irritable than he would have liked. “Kunoichi or not, a fall from this height will kill you.”

The girl’s eyes – a wide, oceanic green, teeming with all kids of life, Madara’s heart made quick, sharp note of – snapped to his. She immediately recognized his kekkei genkai and her gaze dropped to his feet. So maybe she wasn’t as stupid as he may have thought.

“Sasuke?” she said, and her voice trembled.

“Who is Sasuke?” he asked with confusion. “He has these eyes, too?” Mentally, he checked off all the members of his clan who had awakened their Sharingan. None of them were named Sasuke, as far as he knew.

Her eyes drifted upwards, slowly and with sharp scrutiny. She wisely avoided his eyes, but her appraisal of him sent something sharp skittering down his spine. He watched with rapt attention as her feet slid into a fighting stance and her hand hovered over her weapons pouch.

It then occurred to him that she was likely here for the same reason he was – an illicit meeting with the enemy. So she had some sort of sordid romance with another Uchiha? Wise of him to have given her a fake name. Still, he would have to make sure to find out who was out here with her. They could pose a liability.

And then his heart ached, which was not a common feeling for him. Had she come here to fling herself off the cliff from sadness? The war was brutal, and if it stood between her and her lover, he could understand that kind of desperation. Madara often thought of the lengths to which he would go to save his brother.

But she had been laughing before, and that didn’t seem like something a suicidal, war torn lover would do.

“You’re Madara Uchiha,” she breathed, her gaze dropped infuriatingly low at his collarbone. He longed for her to meet his gaze with those beautiful eyes of hers, but he couldn’t blame her. “How is that possible?” she asked. “You should be long dead.”

“I beg your pardon?”

This made her eyes dart up to his. They were confused and curious, and definitely afraid, but they still locked him into place. He was certain he wasn’t in any kind of genjutsu, but something about her captivated him, and something close to a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

A part of him was thrilled that she seemed afraid of him, and that she knew his name and recognized his face.

The girl remained frozen, and with his Sharingan he could see the faint tremble of her fingers, the way her chakra was racing through its pathways, even the pounding pulse that beat in her neck. She wasn’t just afraid; she was terrified.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” he said, not without a touch of arrogance. There was something very satisfying about seeing the pretty kunoichi squirm before him. “Are you a Senju?” he asked. “I know it must be hard to believe, but I mean you no harm.”

“You don’t?” she asked dryly. He wanted to laugh at her, but that would probably make her angry, and that was counterproductive to gaining intel from her – though he did wish to see her fight, as she looked prepared to do. He watched the muscles in her arms flex beneath her skin, likening her to a cat preparing to pounce – a lioness.

“Well, if you really are a Senju—” He watched her bristle, “Then I suppose I can understand your disbelief. I can assure you, though, this cliffside is no battleground. I don’t think you’d consider it such, either, so if you must attack me, then let’s go somewhere else.”

Her eyes had long abandoned his, and she took a step backward, her heel coming dangerously close to the cliff’s edge.

Madara wondered now if this girl actually did know what she was doing. She didn’t seem suicidal – not even a little. And since he didn’t peg her a stupid just yet, he glanced toward the expanse beyond the cliff with curiosity.

It was different now, though he couldn’t say exactly why. The trees were fewer, but the ones still there were taller, thicker. It was as if he were looking at an image of the scene he knew so well instead of the real thing.

He took a few steps closer to the edge of the cliff, flicking his gaze to the girl, who appropriately cowered at his impending nearness.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked with far more spice and sass than was expected from a trembling, frightened girl. He paused and turned to look at her, more than a little curious about that sharpness in her voice.

Up a little closer, he could see now that he had been terribly wrong about her eyes. They were hardly oceanic – no, they were as vibrant as the auroras he looked up at in the evenings, the ones he burned into his memory because they were easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and even a war hero like Madara needed some serenity and beauty once in a while.

The color of her eyes brought the night sky to shame. There were extraordinary depths there, intelligence lurking beyond that fear. He could feel that the tomoe of his Sharingan were spinning now – naturally he needed to commit that face to memory. He didn’t think he could forget if he tried, but now at least he knew for certain he would always be able to see this pretty face if he wanted to.

Said pretty face was contorted with fear, but the girl it belonged to manage to hold her ground in spite of it. He admired the little fool for that.

“You were waiting here for Sasuke, weren’t you?” he asked accusingly, suddenly remembering that she was not his to admire. “Tell me about this Sasuke fellow. What does he look like?”

The girl’s brows knit together in skeptical confusion. Madara was certain that she had been thrown for a loop as much as he had been. There was something about this chance encounter that was wrong. Everything was so close to how it was supposed to be, but just slightly off. The sky was the wrong shade of blue, and the sun wasn’t beaming down as hotly as he remembered.

“Come now,” Madara said impatiently, as she girl stared at some fixed point on his neck. “I’ve already established I have no intentions of hurting you. If you’re here to meet with someone from my clan, I should like to know who it is.”

Her fingers slipped into the weapons pouch at her hip and removed a kunai. She twirled it around her fingers, testing the weight he knew she was already familiar with. It was far from a threatening gesture – as if Madara Uchiha could be taken down with a simple kunai. Still, her message was clear.

“I won’t hurt him either,” he said. “I could hardly blame a healthy man for sneaking away to see such a beautiful girl.”

The attempt at flattery succeeded. He watched some of the anger melt from her face, though confusion and fear were still there.

“At least tell me your name,” he said as her fingers tightened around the kunai’s handle.

She glanced over her shoulder at the drop behind her. If she intended to jump, he would have no choice but to stop her. There was no way he would let her die here – not without getting some information first.

The moment her foot began to inch further back toward the cliff, Madara launched himself forward and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her close to his chest, clinging onto her so that she could not wrest herself away and throw herself off the cliff.

But now he saw what she had intended to do. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened as he looked down below at the flourishing village that had definitely not been there yesterday. Colorful buildings sprawled before him, stretching out for miles. He could see a marketplace, bustling with people carrying baskets of food and linens, streets lines with restaurants and general stores and little cafes. His mind blanked as he gaped at it all – the sheer idea of a village so large, and so, so…

He glanced down at the cliff’s edge, noticing the intricately carved… things in its side. They would provide nice footholds for the girl to jump down, he realized, if she were on her way back to that… that village.

“Let go of me,” said a muffled voice in his chest, and he remembered that he still held her cradled against him as if he had just saved her from imminent death.

He released her, though he sorely missed the heat of her, even in the midday sun.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, now so far beyond confused that it looked like he would be needing her help rather than offering some to her.

She, too, seemed to be trying hard to reign in her confusion. Her eyes were unabashedly on his now, and the feeling of direct eye contact with her seemed to pull taut some string inside him that stretched from his chest all the way down to his feet.

“You look so young,” she said almost reverently. “So much like…”

Her pale fingers reached up to touch his face. Madara felt a magnetic pull draw him toward her – and they were already standing so close. The more rational part of his brain told him not to let her touch him. Who knew what poisonous fingertips she might have had.

But she seemed to catch herself, and pulled her hand away before skin could contact skin.

“If you don’t want to hurt me, then what are you doing here?” she demanded, and he was delighted to see that her cheeks were pink. “And, like…” she trailed away, and he felt a pang of sympathy for her, and then a pang for himself as well, because they were both very confused. “How are you here? I thought they buried your body.”

At this, Madara narrowed his eyes. “My body?” he asked. “Oh god, am I dead?”

“Is it some sort of jutsu?” she asked, her eyes roving over him in a less than pleasurable way now. “You really are a thing to be admired, aren’t you?” she asked quietly, more to herself than to him, though he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit to the way those words made his heart soar. “So goddamn smart and powerful, although…” Her eyes flicked up to his. “You seem different than I expected.”

He gave her a dry look, unimpressed with her tone. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but she began to walk in a circle around him, eying him with the same kind of interest she might observe a particularly odd animal with.

“This age thing – you should be well into your, what, sixties, seventies by now?” she mused. Madara blinked at this as something close to understanding began to dawn over him. “Your Sharingan aren’t the Mangekyou, so you must not have taken your brother’s eyes yet.”

“What?” he snapped. “I would never do such a thing,” he said, pushing down any thoughts he might have entertained about his brother’s safety and whereabouts. He needed to be focused on the present, on this mysterious kunoichi who was currently appraising him with languid scrutiny.

She raised her brows, “oh?” she asked. “That’s the way it was always told in the history books. I imagine something must have changed, because you definitely had – or will have – the Mangekyou Sharingan.”

His mind reeled over her words, and it seemed that she might have put it together far faster than he did.

“What is that place?” he asked, pointing down the side of the cliff toward the village below.

“It’s Konoha,” she explained, and she seemed less afraid now, though she still clung tightly onto the kunai in her fist, and held her guard up appropriately high. She looked far more like a kunoichi now. “The Leaf Village. My home.” She paused for a moment, and then decided that she could ask some questions of her own, too.

“How old are you?” she asked, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her that, but something compelled him to, and he desperately latched onto the idea that it was certainly not those mesmerizing eyes.

“Twenty.”

“Why were you up here on the cliffside?” she asked.

He considered lying to her, but he couldn’t come up with any real reason for that. Whether she was Senju or not, he had already decided he couldn’t kill her. It would be a real tragedy to rob the world of her kind of beauty. Peering at her now, he could swear he saw a bit of Hashirama in her. And what would Hashirama think of this pretty little thing? Did he actually know her?

“I met a friend here,” he said vaguely, but honestly. “And then I fell asleep against that tree.” He pointed to the tree. “When I woke up, I heard you laughing and I…”

The rest didn’t need to be said. He watched her frown and shake her head. “I would have seen you,” she said. “There’s no way. I passed that tree on my way up here and you were not there.”

He shrugged. “I sparred on this cliff yesterday, and that village was not there.”

They shared a glance between them, and with a slow cresting sort of clarity, they both realized that Madara had somehow been propelled fifty-odd years into the future.

///


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To answer a few of your questions about the timeline for this story, I thought I’d let you guys know the approximate time periods we’re working with here. Madara is twenty, and he’s at the end of the First Shinobi War. This means he hasn’t fought Hashirama at the Valley of the End yet, and Konoha has not been created (obviously). By all accounts, he’s still “good,” meaning he hasn’t done anything overtly evil yet.
> 
> Sakura’s time is early Shippuden/around the time Naruto comes back from training with Jiraiya. For the sake of not being gross, we can play with her age here and pretend she’s seventeen, but that’s her skill level right now. Also, thanks to Suzululu4moe for pointing out I goofed on what Sakura thinks Madara’s current age should be (but we can just pretend that’s Sakura’s mistake and not mine ;)). It was more that I goofed in saying he moved 50 years into the future. That wasn’t enough time. Just pretend I do everything right, and ignore any mistakes I make.
> 
> Jk, I welcome all criticism – especially the constructive kind. Thank you, Suzululu4moe.
> 
> Anyway, if y’all end up liking this I’ll start posting chapters every Friday. You can hold me to that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” said the girl, pacing the cliff’s edge frantically. “Madara goddamn Uchiha of all people,” she muttered, passing him an occasional sidelong glance. “Why couldn’t it have been Hashirama – he’s so handsome.”

Madara scoffed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he watched her… do whatever she was doing. It was clear that his presence posed some sort of crisis for her, and he might have had some sympathy were it not for that last comment.

“I mean not that you aren’t handsome, too,” she said, which made him uncontrollably break into a grin, which he immediately dropped before she could see it. 

“You’re just a godforsaken Uchiha and a blight on everything you touch.”

“Excuse me?”

She continued to pace, chewing her thumbnail and still throwing occasional glances toward him like she was afraid he would attack at any moment.

“You’re twenty years old,” she said, her voice loud now, clearly speaking directly to him. “So that means the Great War hasn’t ended yet. Hashirama hasn’t killed you yet.”

Madara felt those words like an icy sting in his chest. He remained motionless. His eyes followed the girl’s movements as she paced and tactlessly disregarding his feelings about his future death.

So Hashirama killed him, or will kill him? He wondered what would have driven him to such a thing. He could hardly imagine the Hashirama he sparred with yesterday actually delivering a killing blow to him. They were friends. That meant something to the both of them. They had plans, and ideas, and…

“Is that village…” he asked, lifting his arm vaguely to point toward the cliff’s edge. “Is that village the one that Hashirama and I…?”

The girl halted her footsteps to look at him. “I wish I had a history textbook with me,” she mused. “I guess we only get to see the Senju side of things. I bet you’d have a lot to teach me of the village’s history.”

“Oh, you mean the village that I had no idea existed until a few moments ago?”

She bashfully looked down at her feet. “Right.”

Silence stretched between them, and Madara wondered what his home looked like now. It was just a camp – a settlement that could be used until the war was over, but still. It had been his home for the better part of the past year and he couldn’t help but wonder what condition it was in now.

He ushered those thoughts from his head, though, because they came dangerously close to Izuna, who he couldn’t bear to think of right now.

“So you haven’t founded Konoha yet,” she said. “And since I guess we haven’t said it aloud yet, it would be good to mention that it seems you’ve somehow stumbled into the future.”

Madara blinked, having surmised the same thing. He wouldn’t put such outlandish ideas into words, though, because just the thought of it was absurd. Logical, given all the supporting evidence, but still absurd.

“Was Hashirama Senju the friend you were meeting here?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You know Hashirama?” he asked. “I knew it. You are a Senju.”

“Just raised by one,” she said with a shake of her head. Her brow was still knit with confusion, and the glances she kept sneaking him were now a little darker. “You were meeting with Hashirama, and you haven’t founded Konoha yet, so I can only conclude that you’re still… still good,” she finished lamely, as if that wasn’t the word she wanted to choose.

“Good…” he repeated, wondering if such a word really applied to him. It certainly didn’t apply to future Madara, if this girl’s reaction to him was anything to go by. Was he an enemy of that village, Konoha? How could he have founded it and now be an enemy of it? Had they turned against him?

Rage began to swell in his chest, and something darkened his mind like a thick cloud, something he wasn’t in complete control of.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to hear this, umm, Uchiha-sama,” said the girl, and the cloud vanished, replaced by something much warmer, and more delicious at the carefully uttered honorific she had attached to his surname. “But I’m not really sure what to do with you. I mean if you are from the future, then I can’t just leave you here. You don’t know— I mean so much has changed in the last fifty years.”

“Well, darling, you’ve been a great help to me,” he said. “Supposing I have found myself thrust into the future, I cannot expect any more from you. I’m not your burden to deal with, so there isn’t anything that you must do with me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he couldn’t help but grin at her, greatly amused by her frustration. “What a gentleman,” she said dryly.

“I should hardly be anything less,” he said. “Not in the presence of beauty like yours.”

The girl choked, her eyes an uninspired blend of shock, confusion, and perturbation, he noticed dryly.

“Too much,” he mumbled to himself. “Hashirama is much better at this sort of thing.”

“I have to take you Tsunade-sama,” she said with new conviction. “This is… this is beyond my capabilities. Is there any way you could maybe accompany me into the village? The Hokage would—”

“A tempting offer, dear girl, but no,” he said. “I need to—” He paused, uncertain of what he needed to do. He couldn’t stay here, just like she had said. If it truly was fifty years in the future, then there was no home for him to go back to, which also meant there was no war anymore, and if the village was already founded, then there was no real goal anymore – and if all those things were true, then Hashirama and Izuna, and everyone else, they were either dead or…

“Where is Izuna Uchiha?” he demanded.

She looked away from him, her eyes clouded by something that wrenched his heart right out of his chest. He took two quick steps toward her, taking barely a second to ascertain her fresh fear, and gripped her chin tightly. She winced, but didn’t pull away from him as he tilted her chin up and forced her to look at him.

“Tell me your name,” he commanded, “and then tell me where Izuna Uchiha is.”

“My name is Sakura Haruno,” she said, and he was pleased by her obedience and a surname that wasn’t Senju. “And your brother was killed during the war.”

Madara released her, swallowing the bile that had risen in his throat. So Izuna had died during the war. It made no difference now. When he got back to his own time, he would prevent that from happening at all costs. He would send Izuna away, or he would murder all of those filthy Senju before they could so much as touch his little brother.

“I know this must be very confusing—”

Madara sent a sharp glare at the girl, who withered under his heated gaze.

“If you could just please come back to the village with me,” she implored. “I’m sure that—”

“I can hardly go traipsing through the village,” he said dryly. “You easily recognized me, and assuming that because I’m in your history textbooks, I’m also a historical figure in your village, I don’t think it would be wise to—”

“I get your point,” she interrupted, glaring at him.

Madara had half a mind to scare her again, to lash out at her and force her to show him to proper fear and respect she had before.

“This Hokage of yours,” he said calmly. “Tell me he isn’t a Senju.”

Sakura – a name he’d scarcely noted before, but now realized suited her in a horrifyingly cliché way – demurred.

“He is, isn’t it?”

“It’s a she,” Sakura snapped, “and she is a Senju.”

Madara growled with frustration. As if it weren’t already enough that he was to be dealing with a fucking Senju, she had to be a damn woman.

“What does she know of time travel?” he asked. “Would she be able to help me get back to my own time?”

Sakura’s eyes widened and then darkened, then she looked away from him, lost deeply in thought. Madara allowed her to muse for a while, grateful for her silence, because that wasn’t as petulant as when she spoke.

“Umm, Madara-sama, I’m not going to claim to be an expert on time travel or whatnot, but going backwards in time seems to be an impossible feat, doesn’t it?” Sakura asked.

Madara shook his head with confusion. “Not any more so than going forward in time, like I appear to have done.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” she said, and he narrowed his eyes as he watched her begin to explain it to him. “Time and space are a continuum, right? Well, theoretically, if a person were to move fast enough through space, they could also move through time. It’s an unimaginable amount of speed, I’d say – this is all just conjecture so I don’t have numbers or anything. It just makes sense in theory that moving fast enough through space would also propel you forward in time.”

She paused for a moment, her gaze flicking up to his to gauge whether or not he was even listening to her. He was, but in spite of her sure tone, he wasn’t confident in her knowledge.

“But you could never move more slowly, you know,” she continued, not breaking their gazes apart. He felt frozen again, as he had before, by her gaze – this time soft and a little patronizing, which Madara was not a fan of. “The slowest you could ever be is perfectly still. A person could never go slower than that; therefore a person could never actually move backward through time.”

Madara stared at her blankly, hoping his face denoted the proper amount of disapproval he felt for her assessment of the situation. Her eyes, though, were on his mouth now, and this made something inside Madara stir, something deep and low in his gut.

“Well, thank you for your input, Haruno-san, but I’m going to need to get a second opinion,” he said.

He turned and began to leave when he felt her amassing chakra behind him. His Sharingan whirled in his sockets, and his fingers itched to fight her, to see what this little girl was really capable of.

“Wait,” she said, so he turned to look at her. 

“I’m not unsympathetic toward your plight,” she said. “But I can’t just let you leave here. Madara Uchiha, whether risen from the dead or flung into the future, is standing in Fire Country. The Hokage needs to know of this, and I’m sure she’ll want to—”

He moved toward her at breakneck speed and clamped his hand over her mouth. He was much faster than she was, no doubt, and she didn’t even try to get out of his grasp as he jerked her chin up to meet his gaze again. Foolish little thing.

“You can tell no one of my presence here,” he said. “Do you understand?”

Sakura nodded mutely, her eyes wide with fear.

Madara almost felt an apology on his tongue. That was really a Hashirama sort of feeling, but there was something about the way her eyes settled on him that made him want to touch her cheek, calm her down.

But then she was cocking back her cute, tiny little fist, and with his Sharingan he saw the moments leading up to her punch – a quick jab aimed at his torso. He grinned, happy to have a chance to see the little firecracker in action.

He caught her fist with his palm, and the resulting explosion of pain that shot through his arm made him falter backwards. Madara yelped, clutching his hand with his good one, cradling what was apparently a litany of broken bones. He looked up to Sakura, eyes wide with horror.

“Wow, that felt really good,” she said, and in spite of the pain still wrecking his whole arm, he couldn’t help but admire her in that moment.

“You broke my hand,” he said.

“You caught my fist like a total idiot.”

Madara narrowed his eyes. He would remember that for next time. He devoured the sight of her, her cocked hip and teasing smirk. She was a child of that village, he thought, and he was a founder of it. It must have filled her with some sort of pride that she had managed to injure him like this, regardless of how little it spoke of her true talents.

So she had monstrous strength, and he had underestimated her. She was still, by no stretch of the imagination, a match for him.

And the little fool was looking right at him, directly into his eyes like the victory she had won over him wasn’t temporary. He wondered what the Uchiha clan was like now, what this Sasuke fellow was like and what he meant to her. She had been cautious to look into his eyes at first, which was wise since he was a stranger. It seemed the ease of this conversation had given her comfort unduly. 

So he took the opportunity to pull her into a genjutsu. He was almost disappointed that she slipped into it immediately, but the gentleman in him still rushed to catch her before her body hit the earth.

///

Home camp was gone, as expected. The place that had once been a collection of large tents that stretched at least three or four miles across was now just a patch of grass and sporadically growing trees. It hadn’t been much, and it had moved often enough. That was war, after all. But it was always somewhere, and now it was nowhere. Just gone.

Madara tried not to think of Izuna, wherever – or whenever he was. He hated to think that his little brother was unprotected in his absence, but there was little that could be done about it now.

Instead, Madara shifted his focus to the girl slung over his shoulder. It was cumbersome to carry her with his broken hand, but if he left her somewhere and she was able to rouse herself, she’d go straight for that Senju Hokage of hers and tell her everything.

He wasn’t quite sure of the danger in the village knowing of his presence yet, but he needed to err on the side of caution. What Sakura had said about time travel, well it sort of made sense, a small part of him thought. But there was just so much he didn’t fully understand, like how had he travelled into the future, and if it was because he moved fast enough to travel through time, then what vehicle had brought him here? He remember nothing but falling asleep under the moon’s weird face.

And if it were true that he had physically travelled into the future, then did that mean that Madara of the past no longer existed? If he wasn’t around to found the village, then was it a certainty that it would even be founded now?

Of course that was a silly thought, because Sakura had recognized him and Konoha clearly existed in spite of Madara’s presence here.

With a frustrated sigh, Madara heaved the girl off his shoulder into the grass. Her body slumped against the dirt, her eyes frantically darting around beneath their lids. He had used a simple genjutsu to knock her out. He couldn’t say what dreams it would cause, but judging by the movement in her eyes, there were certainly dreams upon her now.

He sat down beside her, and began to carefully peel off his shirt, mindful of his arm. He glanced toward her pouch, wondering whether there was something in there he could use to fashion a sling. Madara couldn’t help but think that she was lucky to be a woman in this particular instance, because had she been a man, he would have no qualms about taking her shirt to use as a sling. It was, after all, her fault.

Madara winced as he pulled his tunic over his head. The bones in his hand were, well to put it bluntly, fucked. He could see them sticking out at all odd angles, nothing in its rightful place. It hurt immensely, but it wasn’t anything the great Madara Uchiha couldn’t handle.

Unfortunately, it seemed that setting the injury on his own would be impossible. There was simple no way to arrange his bones in such a way that they would heal properly, and even if there were, he couldn’t do it alone.

Irritated, he glanced down at the sleeping girl who had crippled him for life with a singular punch.

Her petal pink hair fell across her forehead, which he noted was quite large. His focus was drawn, however, to the little Yin seal in the center of her forehead. He recognized it, though he wasn’t certain from where. He had a gut feeling that it was somehow related to the Senju, and that made him a little more angry.

As ripped the shirt in his hands with his teeth, he listened to the fitful sounds Sakura made as she slept. Her dreams were not good ones, at least that he could tell. She moaned and stirred, and for a moment Madara was afraid she might wake up. He didn’t want to have to give chase to her until he had managed to make his sling, and even then he wasn’t too keen on the idea.

But all she did was whisper Sasuke’s name over and over again, her head lolling back and forth. Who the hell was this Sasuke guy?

Briefly, Madara wondered what the current state of the Uchiha clan was. Was this Sasuke guy the clan head now? Did they all reside in Konoha with the Senju, living side by side?

If there was any chance of getting back to his own time, Madara knew the only people smart enough to help him were the Uchihas. Possibly Hashirama himself, but it was unlikely that he was still alive. And even if he was, that would be a last resort. Hashirama had killed him, after all.

But perhaps there were some other resources in the village that could help him.

He glanced down at the girl again – his only connection to this weird future he was stuck in. Pretty or not, she had still fucked up his hand.

Sakura began to stir again, and Madara watched with bemusement as she broke herself free from his genjutsu and rejoined the world of the awake. She rubbed at her eyes, clutching her forehead as if it ached – and it probably did. Madara’s particular brand of genjutsu often had such a side effect.

When she sat up and blinked her eyes open, they fell on him in such a way that Madara was certain she thought he was someone else for a moment. Her mouth spread into a slow smile, and as much as he wished that such a pretty thing could be meant for him, it very clearly was not. She tossed her arms around his neck and sagged against him with ill wrought relief.

“Sasuke,” she said, and he heard the surge of breath she sucked in, the calm before the torrent of words to be released.

Sharply, he pushed her away. “I’m not Sasuke,” he said irritably, readjusting the sloppy sling he had managed to put together.

Sakura fell back onto her hands, her expression carefully neutral. He could still see the trepidation on her, the fear that glimmered in those damn eyes as she looked up at him – a mistake the foolish girl had already made once, yet was making it again now.

He almost wanted to teach her a lesson and whip her back into that genjutsu.

But there was something pitiful about her now, something more pitiful than Madara felt with his crippled hand and his poorly fashioned sling.

“Is Sasuke your husband?” he asked, ready to get to the bottom of this Sasuke business and learn more about the current state of his clan.

Sakura scoffed dryly, and then, as if just remembering that she had been knocked out and swept over into the middle of nowhere, she glared at him. Madara glared back at her, a little annoyed by her audacity, and well, a little turned on by it, too.

“Where the hell are we?” she asked, glancing around the field. There wasn’t much here now but tall grass and sunshine, but Sakura got up to her feet anyway, peering toward the sun and then the horizon. “We’re on the other side of the river,” she said. “You carried me all the way here with your hand like that?”

“You broke my hand, not my legs.”

The girl sat back down with a sigh, blowing her bangs out of her face. She looked far too casual. It was unbecoming of a kunoichi, he thought – even one who had just been unconscious and thrown over his back.

A thrum of wind rolled over the field, rustling the lush summer grass.

“Umm, so, did you have a reason for bringing me here?” Sakura finally asked after the silence had become awkward.

Madara shrugged. “I suppose I could have left you where I found you,” he said, “but you broke my hand, and I have to make you pay for that.”

He had meant for that to sound intimidating. This girl was far too comfortable in his presence, and she could use a healthy dose of fear. If she even thought for one second that she could land another hit on him, he would have her hog tied before she made her first move.

But she didn’t seem intimidated at all. In fact, she looked rather pleased with herself.

Beyond irritated, Madara lashed out and snatched her face with his good hand. His thumb dug into the side of her cheek, his palm pressed against her lips. Her eyes widened with fear, and he could feel chakra amassing in her body.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, pulling her face closer to his so that she had to scramble onto her knees to stay upright. “Let me look at you.”

He made sure to set his Sharingan spinning, even though her eyes were not yet on his. It was wise of her to avoid them, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Sakura Haruno,” he said, testing the syllables of her name on his tongue. It was not a Senju name, but something about it was still yucky. “How should I punish you for breaking my hand?”

Her alarmingly bright eyes finally looked up to meet his, and again Madara felt himself sinking into their depths, captivated by how they seemed to hold an explosion of springtime in them. He was immediately suspicious again, that this was some sort of genjutsu, but he could see that it was not – and he wouldn’t have wanted to admit to getting caught if it was.

At some point, her hands had both come up to settle on his wrist, not applying any pressure to move his hand away, but now they both knew that she absolutely could.

His arm felt hot under her touch, and he suddenly became hyperaware of the feeling of her mouth under his palm, and he wondered what it would feel like if she opened it, if she chose to poke that pink tongue of hers out and lick his skin. She was so pretty, he thought, turning her face toward the sun so he could get a better look at her.

The sun made her squint, but it also made her pupils dilate, which allowed him to see more of that beautiful aurora in her eyes. Her long, pink lashes created tiny, spiked shadows under her eyes that fluttered when she blinked. Freckles dotted her pink cheeks and sunburnt nose, and that little purple seal on her forehead pulsed with a faint glow.

Wanting to see the rest of her face, he let go of her. She remained frozen in place, quaking in fear, poor thing. Something froze her in place, though, because even though he was no longer touching her, she didn’t move an inch.

Her lips, such a capitvating shade of pink, trembled. He thought for a moment that he could kiss that tremble away. He noticed the way she looked at him. Perhaps he resembled her lover Sasuke.

“You look so pretty in the sunlight,” he said to her, watching the flush appear on her skin, quickly followed by a deep scowl.

“I think that’s how I’ll punish you.”

///


	3. Chapter 3

Feeling very pleased with himself, Madara leaned back in the grass and sighed. The girl was trussed up just a few feet away, her hands and feet bound with strips of bandage that he had found in her pouch. Of course she could easily break herself free from them, but Madara rather liked seeing her tied up anyway.

He mused that she must not face many Uchihas as opponents, because that was twice now that she had fallen prey to his genjutsu. There was something about the unabashed way she looked him in the eye that was refreshing, if a little stupid. None of the Senju dared look him in the eye.

Madara watched her lazily, the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her head was reclined against a log he had scrounged up, and he had lain her down so that her face was toward the sun. A few hours from now, her face would be horrendously sunburned. 

Sure, it wasn’t his usual style. He had far more brutal techniques for punishment, and they all scanned through his mind as he thought of how to punish her for breaking his hand.

But this seemed sufficient enough, and he had an odd desire to see her skin reddened.

Madara didn’t want to spend too much time goofing around with her. He had many other things to worry about, like how he was going to get home, and whether or not Izuna was okay.

His thoughts drifted to Hashirama. He sorely hoped that what Sakura had said wasn’t true. Madara couldn’t bear the thought of it (though he supposed that if he must be killed, then he would want Hashirama to be the one to do it).

The only thing he could think to do to prevent it was the get himself back to his time, and train harder and stronger so that he wouldn’t lose to Hashirama. There was no telling what his absence back home meant, if there even was an absence of him there, or if time was still moving there at all, or if Sakura was right and it was in the unreachable past.

Frustrated, Madara glanced at Sakura’s headband and the Leaf symbol emblazoned on it. This was beyond the scope of Madara’s knowledge, but there must be someone in the village that could help him.

He had never seen anything like that village. The buildings and the lights, just the sheer scope of it all took his breath away. They had come such a long way in just fifty years, he thought. He wondered what kind of luxuries Sakura had, what sort of life she led living in a place like that.

It was exactly what he had wanted for future generations – not to have to live in military camps, in trenches and on battlefields. A smile tugged at his lips as he thought of Hashirama again. They had done it. They had made their dream a reality.

He longed to go explore the place, but something told him to hold off for the moment. He couldn’t go in his present state. He also couldn’t know what kind of reaction the villagers would have to him. Sakura had recognized him, which meant the others likely would, too.

Anonymity was a tool he wasn’t read to give up just yet. With a Senju as Hokage, he wasn’t sure he wanted everyone to know he was here. The way Sakura had reacted to him, and referred to him begrudgingly as… good… What happened in the future that would make her think he was bad?

And if she thought that, then certainly the entirety of the Senju clan did.

So it was safer not to let his presence be known just yet. There was too much he needed to figure out first, starting with the years between his current age up to when he was killed.

He glanced to Sakura. It sure would have been convenient if she had been carting her history book around in that pouch of hers.

He found himself staring at her again, drawn to the way a sliver of skin near her hipbone was exposed every time she inhaled. Most of her skin was exposed anyway, he noticed. She wore some incredibly tiny spandex shorts underneath that short, pink apron of hers, and those legs were so unfairly long. In the unforgiving sunlight he could see how smooth and perfect and soft and temptingly touchable they looked. His Sharingan darted to every freckle he could spot, constellating her for future note.

Her arms, which were bound behind her back in such a way that it would undoubtedly be painful for her when she awoke, were beginning to show redness, especially near her shoulders. Her collarbone was strikingly fragile-looking, and Madara mused that he’d easily be able to snap it if he could get close enough. He could see the small curve of her breasts beneath that little red vest, which was unzipped just enough to show him that she hardly had any cleavage at all.

Madara wasn’t exactly a womanizer, but even wartime had some weird perks. While kunoichi were rare in his time, women were not. Civilian women were often desperate during war, dreading death as a virgin, craving the touch of a man while they still live.

There was no shame in taking advantage of that, Madara thought. He was fighting a war, after all, and he needed some good ole human comfort the same as anyone else did. Though he conceded that Hashirama was much better with the ladies than he was, Madara had no trouble with women. He got what he needed from them – that sweet, gentle, feminine touch. Rarely would they want to stick around after that. It wasn’t prudent for many reasons, one of which being Madara’s rather abrasive personality.

Again, there was no real need to worry about that. He wouldn’t have to worry about that until he chose to settle down. He was clan head, after all, and he would have to find a suitable wife to be matriarch and bear his extraordinary children.

Madara closed his eyes as he thought of this, picturing a sweet, lithe little dark haired woman, pretty eyes, full lips and hips. She would give him many, many children, he thought. She would fill his house with little dark haired, red eyed kids, little minds for him to teach, to grow into strong, capable Uchiha warriors.

Did he have a wife before he was killed? It would be hard to imagine having a woman at his side like that. He had such little time to even think of settling down with a woman. That would have to wait until the war was over.

The alternative was something Madara also didn’t want to think about. The war was over and life as he knew it was effectively over now.

“Sasuke…”

Annoyed, Madara glanced over at the girl, who was fitfully wrenching at her ties. Feeling a little merciful, Madara sat up and reached for her to untie them.

The second his fingers brushed against her arm, she catapulted herself up into a sitting position as if to wake up she needed to violently fling herself to consciousness. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed, and Madara raised an amused brow.

She looked down at her body, tugging at the bandages around her wrists and ankles. The dry look she tossed to Madara made him laugh before she easily snapped them.

“Was this my punishment?” she asked curtly, though he could still sense her fear, and she was right to fear him.

Madara grinned, realizing that he had been lost in thought for the better part of the afternoon – a luxury which he had never had before. This gave plenty of time for the sun to tinge Sakura’s cheeks with a flaky, nasty looking red color.

There was something charming about it – the splay of redness over the bridge of her nose, the sharp line of red separating pale, creamy skin that he could see on her shoulder where the hem of her vest sat. It would peel over the coming days, and probably be quite painful, he thought. Not nearly as painful as a broken hand, of course, but still quite satisfying to see.

“No,” he said, clapping a strong, firm hand onto her shoulder where it was the reddest. “This is your punishment.”

Sakura winced and glanced down at her chest and arms, which were angrily red in protest of the sun exposure. Slowly, she lifted her head to glare at him.

Unable to help himself, Madara reached up to her face and pinched one sunburnt cheek, pulling her face toward his so he could get a better look. She was pouting, seeming to realize that he was relishing in her pain – that he had done this to her on purpose as a trivial punishment for what she had done to him.

To his utter surprise, a faint green glow began to emanate from her skin from beneath the surface. Warily, he took a step back away from her, watching with his Sharingan to detect any trickery on her part. She could have some rare kekkei genkai that she had yet to show him, or all sorts of other abilities he had no clue about. It was best to keep his guard up, in spite of their casually antagonist demeanors.

When the glow had faded from her skin, so had the redness – all of it, even the tips of her ears and the sliver of skin on her hip.

Sakura, having finished her witchcraft, spread her feet into a fighting stance again.

“Alright, you prick,” she said. “I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way. I will drag you to Konoha if I have to.”

This earned a booming laugh from Madara, who thought tears might spring to his eyes should she continue speaking like that. That was a lot of hubris for such a little girl – as if she could drag him anywhere. They had already established that the foolish girl would easily succumb to his genjutsu.

But if she wanted to fight, well, how could he deny such a pretty thing the chance to show off her talents? In fact, he’d quite like to see what this feisty little thing could do.

“Although I’ll feel a little bad about kicking your ass while your hand is broken,” she said without any real compassion. “I’m not sure where your skill level is right now. I know your formidable, but so am I. I’d really rather not fight you, so this is the last time I will say it. Come back to Konoha with me, and meet with Tsunade-sama. She might even be able to help you.”

Madara laughed again, but he admired her confidence. He would see if she truly deserved it.

“Well, Sunflower—”

“It’s Sakura,” she snapped, but Madara ignored her. Sunflower suited her far better, what with her pretty little face turned toward the sun. In spite of her recent lack of sunburn, the sun still seemed to gild her, to light her up like she belonged to it and was supposed to always be in it.

Like Hashirama, he thought, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“Sunflower,” he repeated as she clenched her teeth. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you beat me in a spar, then I’ll willingly go back to Konoha with you and meet your Hokage. No dragging involved.”

Sakura mulled this over, her eyes darting over him in quick appraisal of his condition. Her eyes lingered on his arm, which hung limply from his makeshift sling. It seemed to occur to her then that he was shirtless, and her eyes wandered, taking on a new shade of heat that flushed her face in a much prettier way than the sun did. Madara took a moment to inwardly gloat over her feminine approval, but when her eyes settled back on his broken hand, he shifted it away from her self-consciously.

“You’re injured,” she pointed out.

“Believe me, I can still take you,” he said with arrogance. “In fact, why don’t you break my other hand, too? I could still take you.”

At this, Sakura laughed, and the sound warmed a bubble in his chest that expanded as he watched the sun glint off those stunning eyes of her.

“If I win, you come back to Konoha,” she reaffirmed. “What do you get if you win?”

Madara had already considered this, but he pretended to consider it again for show. “If I win, I want you to do two favors for me,” he said. “First one, keep my presence here a secret for now.”

Sakura shook her head. “No, I can’t do that,” she said. “You’re a massive liability. I’m the Hokage’s apprentice. I could never keep something like this from her.”

“You,” he said, shock seasoning his voice, “are the Hokage’s apprentice?” He roved his eyes over her again, as if he hadn’t already committed her to memory. She was too small, he thought. Foolish, too, if she fell prey to genjutsu attacks so easily. He had to give her that she had incredible strength, and that healing technique was interesting.

Still, she was a tiny, frightened little lamb of a girl, and he had a hard time believing she was as fierce a kunoichi as she seemed to think she was.

“I see,” he continued. “You don’t want to keep secrets from your master. I’d consider that admirable were your master not a Senju.”

“Tsunade-sama is twice the shinobi you ever were.”

Madara kept his expression neutral, but now he was beginning to feel irritated. “If you are so confident that you will win, then there’s no reason not to accept my terms,” he said curtly. “Keep my presence a secret,” he implored, “and for my second request, I’d like for you to bring me any tomes or scrolls pertaining to the Uchiha clan or the founding of Konoha.”

He watched the cogs begin to whirl behind her eyes as she considered his offer. It didn’t matter if she accepted or not. He wasn’t going to let her leave and blow his cover as she so clearly intended to do. There was nothing to stop her from lying to him and going straight to the Hokage after their match. He wouldn’t even be able to stop her without following her into the village himself.

As foolishly stupid as she was, he couldn’t trust her not to do that. If he wanted to ensure her silence, he would have to keep her by his side until he knew for certain that she wouldn’t say anything to anyone.

“I understand that you want to know more about how Konoha came to be, Uchiha-sama,” she said, and the use of the honorific surprised him a great deal. “But are you sure that you want me to bring you all that information? It regards… your death. And other things you may not want to know.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Blissful ignorance isn’t my style.”

“Very well,” she said with a nod. “I accept your terms.”

Madara allowed himself one half of a second to collect himself, to grin and appreciate what he was lucky enough to have the chance to do.

When that half a second was over, Madara launched himself into her, throwing his shoulder into her chest with enough force to knock her over.

He wasn’t surprised to see that she was less than prepared for his attack. She grunted as her back hit the ground, but she was already up on her feet again by the time Madara had blinked, and she converged quickly on him with fists cocked and brimming with chakra.

Careful to keep his distance from those lethal fists of her, Madara leapt backwards, quickly forming the hand signs for a fireball jutsu. This would be tricky with just one hand – he would never stand a chance against Hashirama like this. Sakura, though, he could handle.

Thick flames burst from his fingertips, blooming before him until they obscured his vision of the girl. For good measure, he tossed a few kunai in her direction, scanning the smoke and flames to see her prone form in the singed grass, unmoving.

Madara sensed trickery, so he did not approach her just yet. The flames cleared away, and he gazed and the charred, but still mostly in tact fabric of the back of her vest. He could see the rise and fall of her body with slow, unlabored breathing, and he rolled his eyes at her antics.

“Get up, you fool,” he said, beginning to approach her.

As he suspected, as he began to near her, chakra amassed in one of those fists of hers. He didn’t plan on getting anywhere near her attack range, which luckily seemed to be pretty close. Not a good match for him, thought, with his eyes and speed and collection of ranged jutsus.

But before he could get close enough to really inspect her, she punched the earth below her chest. The ground quaked beneath Madara’s feet and he leapt away from the massive crater that had split the ground beneath the two of them. The earth’s maw opened up as if to swallow him, and with a stab of something sharply disapproving, he realized that she had held back on him before. She could have wrecked his entire arm, his whole damn body. She had extended a mercy to him by only smashing his hand, and it made him a little angry.

As the dust and rubble settled, he made out Sakura’s lithe form on the other side of the crater. Even from this distance he could see that her eyes were closed. Finally, a smart decision.

He had seen her strength now, and though he would like to see what other talents she possessed, he was too upset to continue. There was no reason to prolong the inevitable.

With damn near blinding speed, Madara raced across the crater and aimed a punch of his own at Sakura’s sweet, pretty face. He let out a relieved breath when she managed to dodge it. It would have been tragic to mar it, even though it would have felt really nice to land that hit on her.

Madara continued to rain blows on her, and with less than desirable speed, she managed to block them. He noticed that she was using chakra to buffer the impacts, gathering it in her fists and legs where she caught his blows. He had never seen anyone use chakra in such a way and he had to wonder if it was something he could replicate. It didn’t appear to be a jutsu, so far as his Sharingan saw.

But as their taijutsu spar became more heated, it became obvious to Madara that his little Sunflower was running out of stamina. He dodged an expert kick that she aimed at his face, and when he leapt back he saw that a considerable amount of chakra had been behind said kick. She must have been getting desperate to end it soon, too. He could see sweat beading up on her forehead, trickling down those supple arms and legs of hers.

“Getting tired?” he teased.

She lashed out at his broken hand. Madara twisted away from her, grinning as she moved onto the offensive. She was quite slow, he realized, and with his Sharingan as an advantage, he was easily able to evade her every attack. She had yet to use any kind of real jutsu against him – one he might be able to copy. She hadn’t even thrown a shuriken or pulled out any kind of weapon at all.

If strength was her only trick, then she would have to land a hit on him to win, and Madara vastly surpassed her in terms of stamina. He could do this all day.

He wouldn’t, though, as much as he enjoyed watching her move so lithely around him.

“You’re all talk,” he said to her, dodging another of her lethal blows. “Do you even have a jutsu to use?”

“So you can copy it?” she hissed. She eyed his broken hand, and clenched her teeth with frustration. Madara held back his grin.

She threw more punches at him, and though he was a little impressed with her agility, her speed just couldn’t compare to his. She would never land a blow on him at this rate.

Madara mused that she would be a fantastic squad member. She had the power of underestimation on her side, and if the men on the battlefield were are starved for beauty as Madara was, then they’d certainly fall prey to more lewd tactics on her part. Even without that, her agility and strength would lend itself well to a well planned out offensive strategy.

Eventually, when Madara tired of watching her try, he threw another punch at her, aimed for her chest this time. She caught it in her tiny palm, braced with a hefty amount of chakra.

They froze like that for a moment, with her holding his fist, their heavy breaths intermingling. Fighting her was as exhilarating as sparring with Hashirama, albeit in a very different sort of way. He stared at her face, taking note of the redness and sweat, the way her pink hair plastered itself against her face.

Even the kunoichi he had encountered on the battlefield weren’t quite like her, though Madara couldn’t explain exactly why that was. He wondered if the other women in Konoha were like her, or if he had managed to stumble upon something quite special.

Then a sharp, stinging pain erupted in four distinct points on his good hand, the one still clutched in Sakura’s palm. He yanked his arms away from her, leaping backward out of her reach so he could inspect what voodoo she had just performed on it. It couldn’t have been a jutsu. He would have seen her form the hand signs.

When he stared down at his hand, he saw four identical slits in the top as if she had plunged perfectly sharpened blades down into it him. His bones, he noted dryly, were still in tact. The holes, however, went straight through to his palm, where a significant amount of blood had begun to pool.

He looked up at her with surprise and curiosity. “A kekkei genkai?” he asked her.

“Not quite.”

In lieu of an explanation, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips – a teasing, arrogant, smile, but a stunning one nonetheless.

Having had enough of toying around with her, Madara glanced up into her eyes. Part of the deal she had struck with him involved needing her help, so he couldn’t put her out of commission. He had no idea what kind of medical care could be provided to her back in the village, or if she could even make it back there if he left her too bloodied and hurt.

So a simple genjutsu would have to suffice, and since it seemed to work out so well every other time he had tried, he had no qualms about trying it again now.

But to his frustration, she was avoiding his gaze.

“Look at me,” he commanded, because even though she had no reason to obey him, people often did what Madara told them to do if he sounded stern enough as he said it.

Sakura scoffed.

“My little Sunflower,” he said. “Look at me with those pretty eyes of yours.”

He noticed her surprise, though it made no sense at all to him. Of course the men of Konoha must fawn over her all the time with stunning looks like hers, or so Madara imagined. Unless it was the case that Sakura was one of the uglier woman in the village, and everyone else was just beyond gorgeous by comparison.

Madara thought that unlikely.

“They must have bred that flirtation gene out of your family before Sasuke could get it,” she muttered dryly, more to herself than to him.

Madara chuckled. He’d hardly consider flirtation a skill of his. “Is your lover not able to satisfy you?” he asked. 

“Sasuke isn’t my lover,” she snapped, as she made, for the third time, the very grave mistake up looking up into his eyes.

They froze him for a moment, as they had several times before. There was something just so deeply penetrating about those green eyes of hers that it sent a chill down his spine.

“That’s good to know,” he said.

And then the tomoe of his Sharingan began to spin.

///


	4. Chapter 4

Winning always put Madara in a good mood, but it did little to quell his uneasiness as night began to descend over Fire Country. With Sakura slung over his shoulder again, and his hand carefully wrapped in more bandages he had pilfered from her pouch, he made his way into the trees, tracing back toward the cliff so that they would be close, but not too close to the village.

He tossed her into the dirt, marveling at how his hand still stung and the bandages had barely staunched the flow of blood. Now that would be a miserable, embarrassing way to die, he thought. Blood loss from a stupid hand wound.

Madara glared at Sakura’s crumpled form, eyeing her lack of injury with disdain. Even the satisfaction of her sunburn was gone.

As the sun began to set and crickets chirped brazenly through the thick woods, Madara set to work building a shelter for himself. It wasn’t easy work with both of his hands in disrepair, but Madara was skilled and cunning and he was able to put together a rather rustic sort of lean-to that would at least provide him shelter to sleep through the night.

The girl, however, would not have enough room to comfortably sleep in there with him, which he should have thought about before he finished building it.

“Hey, Sakura,” he said gruffly, toeing at her limp legs.

She stirred immediately, and without being tied up this time, she was able to get to her feet in a matter of seconds. The rage on her face sent a surge of pride up in him – the satisfaction of a spar fairly won.

“Stop doing that!” she shrieked upon seeing the smirk on his face.

“Don’t yell at me,” he said calmly. “You’re lucky I’ve been so kind to you. I could easily have killed you, you know.”

Sakura stamped her foot rather childishly, and it reminded him of when Izuna had been younger and more petulant.

“I’m just trying to help you!” she shouted, and he wanted to shake her to make her shut up. He knew how close that village was to here, and who knew what manner of military forces there were lurking about.

Of course Sakura knew. That was probably why she shouted.

“What exactly is your plan, if you don’t mind my asking?” she asked, though it didn’t seem at all like she cared if he minded or not. “Are you just going to hold me hostage here and hope that whatever force brought you here just happens to put you back where you came from?”

Madara glanced up at the sky. The moon wasn’t visible yet, but he doubted it would be. There was a thick cloud cover rolling in from the east.

“Hostage is a strong word,” he said. “I’d let you go now if I wasn’t certain you’d run off and tell every Senju that you know that I’m here. Now don’t worry,” he said, seeing the look of sheer anxiety on her face. “I have no intentions of hurting you. As soon as I figure out how to get home, you’re in the clear.”

Sakura shook her head vigorously, pressing her lips together in a thin line. “No,” she said. “No. How do you expect to keep me here? You can’t tie me up. And you won the spar, so now I’m supposed to go get you those books and scrolls.”

“Oh, you’re keen on holding up your end of the bargain, are you?” he asked disbelievingly. “Does that mean you’ll keep my secret, too, little Sunflower?”

“Don’t call me that,” his little Sunflower snapped angrily. “Of course I’ll keep it a secret for now. This is the kind of news that Tsunade-sama is better off hearing in the morning after she’s had her—”

Sakura abruptly cut herself off, her mouth clamping shut as if she had just revealed something she shouldn’t have.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You know I can’t trust you. After how desperate you were to get me to meet your Hokage, I have no willingness to believe that you won’t go straight for her the second I let you loose.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I’m not staying here.”

Madara grinned. He loved a good challenge.

“You will stay here,” he argued. “We’ll sleep here in the woods, and in the morning I’ll use a henge to accompany you into the village for those books.”

Sakura glanced back over the shoulder – the direction of the village. She chewed her lip apprehensively and Madara almost felt bad for her. Almost.

“If you try to run, I will not hesitate to kill you,” he said. “I’m sure you’re not the only person who can provide me with the village’s history.”

It then occurred to him that it would be quite easy to kill her. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about her keeping his secret at all, and he could use a henge to wander the village at his leisure. No one would suspect him, he thought, on account of his being long dead.

Sakura’s face contorted with worry, as if she were thinking similar thoughts.

“Why keep me alive at all?” she asked after a beat of silence. Her voice was small, and ugh, weak. He hated that, but it only made him want to reassure her.

“I like your pretty face, Sunflower,” he said. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Her brows knit together with concern, but he didn’t miss the pinkness in her cheeks and the way for just a few seconds her pulse beat wildly in her neck. He held back a grin, wondering if she’d be as easy to snare as all those women he’d bedded before – the ones desperate for affection and afraid of dying.

For a moment he thought she might burst into tears. Her face was screwed up in such a way that it resembled a raisin.

“Aww, don’t cry now,” he said, unsure whether to treat as one of those desperate women, or the kunoichi that he knew she was. Surely she didn’t like to be patronized like this, but Madara felt sincerity in his heart, regardless of whether or not it was reflected in his tone.

“I’m not going to cry, you buffoon.”

Madara was taken aback by the childishly thrown insult. Hashirama had called him the exact same thing just the day before. Or fifty years before, or whatever.

“Then come here,” he instructed, moving to sit in the cover of the lean-to. He patted the patch of grass beside him, which was only just big enough for Sakura to squeeze into.

She recoiled at the sight, which made anger burgeon up in Madara’s chest, but for her sake he pushed it down.

“I’d really love to hear about this Sasuke fellow you keep mentioning,” he said. “You keep saying his name in your sleep. Is he an Uchiha?”

Sakura angled her shoulders away from him, and for a second he thought she might try to bolt. He hated the idea of having to chase her down, and even more so the idea of having to kill her. With his hands still fucked up, he really didn’t want to do much of anything but sit and try to forget the pain.

What he wouldn’t give to be sitting in the medical tent at home right now, having the pretty medic girl with the freckles set his broken hand.

“Come now, I’ve had a hell of a day,” he implored. “Look what you’ve done to my hands. The least you can do is titillate me with conversation.”

She tossed him a dry look, but the look softened as it drifted down to the hands he held cradled in his lap. The look of pity made him want to smack her, but it was better than a look of fear.

“Listen, Madara,” she said, her hip cocked to one side.

“You may call me Uchiha-sama,” he suggested. She still had to know who was in charge here.

“If you can call me Sunflower, then I can use your goddamn name,” she snapped.

Madara tilted his head, so that he could see her body lit by the glowing night sky through the woods behind her. He did not like her tone one bit, but her silhouette on the other hand…

But he supposed he could see her point.

“Fine, I’ll allow it,” he said.

“No, I allow it,” she said, stamping her foot again.

Madara let the tomoe of his eyes begin to spin as he glared at her, glinting like little pinwheel blades in the sky’s eerie glow. Sakura took a frightened step back, and he was careful to note every inch of her, from her trembling fingertips to the mindful way she angled her body away from his.

“Come sit,” he said again, and this time she listened, though not without a bit of sensible hesitation.

She crossed her legs beneath her as she settled into the small space beside him. He supposed he had overestimated her size, because the small thing fit perfectly in the lean-to with him, leaving a couple of inches to spare between them. She was rigid as a board, her shoulders curled in toward her chest. He wondered what she would be doing right now had he not been thrust into her world so unexpectedly.

“Tell me who Sasuke is,” he commanded. “Is he an Uchiha?”

“Yes.”

Madara tried to reign in his irritation. Women weren’t like men on the battlefield, prisoners of war. They were of a softer and sweeter sensibility – even an impertinent kunoichi like this one. They required the proper coaxing, a little charm to make them come into bloom, Hashirama had told him once. That was easy for Hashirama to say. He was just brimming with natural charm.

“Is he a member of the head family?” Madara asked.

“Yes.”

“Is he the clan head?”

Sakura opened her mouth and then closed it. “I guess he is,” she said.

“What do you mean you guess?” he demanded. “Is he the clan head or not? Is he from my bloodline?”

This made he shake her head quickly, though her thoughts must have been somewhere else if the far off look in her eye was anything to go by. “Oh, you don’t have any children,” she said. “You were killed before you took a wife.”

Madara’s heart seized in his chest. No children? No wife? Had he even helped to found this village at all? Had Hashirama really killed him at all? He glanced sharply at Sakura, who seemed to just come to understand the gravity of the information she had just casually dropped on him, stared back. How could he even be certain this little minx was telling him the truth?

“Sorry,” she said, and it sounded sincere, which made him angry. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Who is the oldest living Uchiha?” he interrupted. He didn’t need her apologies. He just needed more information. The oldest living Uchiha had to be someone he had known – one of the children back home, at least.

Sakura went even more rigid. “I… I think someone else should be telling you this stuff,” she said, her voice very timid, not very reassuring. “Tsunade-sama will be able to answer all—”

Madara turned toward her, reaching for her shoulder with his bloodied hand. She recoiled away from him, but he didn’t relent. He gripped her arm as tightly as he could with his hand’s condition, and jerked her forward until they were nose to nose.

This would have been the part where he threatened her or intimidated her with the spin of his eyes. He remembered, though, when he looked into her vast, green eyes, that she was a flower – not his hostage, not a prisoner of war, or even just a man. She was something different, and too much hostility would crush her like a rose bloom in a hurricane.

Though she had no reason to trust him after he had used his genjutsu on her three times already, he hated to see her recoil away from him in fear and disgust.

Frustrated, he let go of her shoulder, giving it a not so gentle shove. Sakura’s back hit the side of the lean-to, causing the entire thing to wobble for a moment before it became still again.

She had already given him enough information. No wife or children. Izuna died in the war. That meant that whichever family was the head family now was not from Madara’s bloodline. In fact, there was no one left from Madara’s bloodline. It had died with Madara and Izuna. He hated to think of the quality of the Uchiha clan if its most powerful bloodline had been eradicated so long ago. It was probably rife with weaker genes, infected by civilians if they all living together in a village that size.

Madara shuddered with disgust.

“I can fix your hands.”

He glanced to the girl beside him, who seemed to have gained a tiny bit of courage while he had been absorbed in thought. She was wiping his blood from her shoulder with a clinical touch and a cloth bandage she had pulled form her pouch.

“The best medic in the world couldn’t fix my hand,” he said dryly. “You fucking obliterated it.”

His Sunflower grinned so widely, so brightly that Madara swore for a moment that the heavens opened up and for one achingly beautiful moment some otherworldly sun shone upon her face.

“Well, it just so happens that I am the best medic in the world,” she said. “So it would be a shame if you didn’t at least let me try.”

Madara scoffed at her arrogance. Sure, she was a healer. He had seen her fix her sunburn right before his eyes. That he was certain had been some sort of kekkei genkai, or some sort of natural healing gene. How else could she have healed herself in such a way?

But if she was a healer, and she could fix his hand, then he supposed he must let her do it. Either that, or have a broken hand forever.

Suspiciously, he pulled his arm out of his shirt sling and offered his broken hand to her.

“You’re really a medic?” he asked.

“The best medic in the world,” she corrected.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Sakura gave him a knowing glance before she pulled his hand into her lap and cradled it in her palm. Feeling the heat from her lap, Madara repressed a shiver, watching with rapt attention as her hand began to glow with the same greenish hue that her skin had when she had healed her sunburn.

Her chakra invaded his whole system. He felt her in his chakra pathways – a racing, coursing, not unpleasant but somehow still terrifying feeling.

He yanked his hand away from her, wincing as the bones jostled against one another.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she said, and he glared at her placating tone. “Sorry, that was a habit. I do that for all my new patients.”

“Do what exactly?” he asked, holding his hand out of her reach.

She folded her hands in her lap rather delicately, and squared her shoulders to him with a kind of confidence she hadn’t shown to him yet, even during their quick spar.

“It was diagnostic chakra,” she explained. “I use my chakra to see what’s in your body, to find the weaknesses, illnesses, or injuries. Like a scan.”

This sounded far-fetched to Madara, but he had witnesses it himself – or at least felt something.

“Well, don’t do that again,” he said.

“I won’t,” she promised. “I’ll just fix your hands. Let me start with the other one.”

Without waiting for his approval, she reached for his bloodied hand and pulled it into her lap. Begrudgingly, Madara allowed it, but only because he didn’t want it to get infected.

Her green chakra filled her palm again, and this time when he felt her chakra in him, it didn’t stray beyond his wrist. There was a cooling, soothing sensation in her work, and Madara resisted the urge to lean into her. Instead, he peered down at their hands with intrigue, watching as the holes in his hand began to close themselves up. 

The stinging subsided, and the numbness in his fingers prickled back to life. When her chakra had receded, she set his hand down on the top of her thigh and reached into her hip pouch. Madara flexed his fingers curiously, astonished that she had simply fixed the injury with pure chakra. It hadn’t been a jutsu, he noticed. He would have copied it with his Sharingan if he could. Wouldn’t this be a useful little trick to have in his belt?

But no, it was her pure, raw chakra, and her precisely perfect control of it that had essentially knit his skin and muscle tissue back together.

He glanced up at her face, admiring her a little bit as she rifled through her pouch. “Where the hell did all my extra bandages go?” she murmured to herself. Madara chuckled. Her eyes darted to his, and he felt another illicit shiver roll down his spine. He considered flipping his hand over and giving her soft, silky thigh and squeeze, but well, she was a flower. A fragile, beautiful, talented little sunflower.

“How did you learn how to do this?” he asked as she pulled a cloth from her pouch, and poured a little liquid from a tiny glass bottle onto it.

“Tsunade-sama taught me.”

She began to wipe away the blood from his hand, her fingers gentle and warm and tender – such a stark contrast from the powerful punches he knew she could throw.

“This is a Senju technique?”

“No, you goon, it’s a perfectly common healing technique,” she said. “I’ve modified it a little. I don’t need to actually perform the jutsu itself, so I don’t need hand signs. I just use my chakra to replicate the effects. It’s more chakra efficient and gives me a little more control over what I’m doing.”

Madara blinked, unable to doubt that she was a great medic anymore. But best medic in the world? That was still debatable.

She patted his hand with finality and reached for the other one. He liked this new confidence in her. She seemed far more sure of herself now, and it all began to make sense. She was an excellent auxiliary support, he thought. If her medical skills were as great as she claimed, and she had such precise chakra control, and that impressive strength… Yes, he could see how she could end up as the Hokage’s apprentice.

“Okay, I’ll need you to be very still,” she said, holding his hand delicately with both of hers. “This will be a little more time consuming because, well like you said, I obliterated it.”

Madara narrowed his eyes, but they instantly glazed over when her chakra invaded his hand this time. Something immensely comforting was spilling into his hand, numbing but also electrifying the nerves there. It was a strange, incredible feeling – and then it was fresh pain all over again.

He hissed and began to tug his arm away instinctively, but Sakura grabbed onto his arm, and using a little of her chakra enhanced strength, held his hand in place.

“I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s better than leaving your hand broken.”

He relented and allowed her to keep working, though the feeling of his bones scraping against one another made him want to tear his arm clean off his body.

“I know you’re curious,” she said, her head still lowered in concentration, “so if it’ll take your mind off the pain, I could tell you a little about how Konoha was founded.”

Madara wasn’t sure he quite trusted her information anymore, but she was at least right about her healing skills, and she seemed to prefer avoiding answering his questions to lying to him. 

“Let’s hear it, then,” he said.

“Long ago,” she began, as if this was a fairy tale and not the very recent future, “there were two very powerful clans: the Uchiha and the Senju.” Madara gave her a dry look, but she was too busy with his hand to notice.

“They fought a stupid war against one another,” she continued. “Children died, civilians died – it was havoc. But there were these two boys, Madara Uchiha and Hashirama Senju. They were really good friends, and they loved one another in spite of being enemies.”

Something in Madara’s chest fluttered.

“Whenever they met in battle, it always resulted in a stalemate – neither one wanting to kill their friend,” she said. “But war is war, and people were killed. The Senju began to grow stronger. Tobirama Senju killed Izuna Uchiha in battle.”

An icy cold chill exploded over Madara’s body as if he had just been plunged into a winter sea. That couldn’t be true… Hashirama’s little brother…

“Madara Uchiha was enraged,” Sakura said, her voice strong with the cadence of a storyteller, a person who had explained this very tale many times before. “His clan was being slaughtered before him, and the only way to stop it was to destroy the Senju and end the war. So he took his brothers eyes and awakened the most powerful doujutsu in the world: the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan.”

Sakura furrowed her brow, pausing for a moment to concentrate on something of particular difficult in his hand. Madara winced, and he blamed it entirely on the bones scraping together in his hand.

She was silently chewing her lip, and brought his hand closer to her face.

“Then what?”

Sakura’s eyes snapped up to meet his as she became aware that she was in the middle of telling a story, and had stopped at the most intriguing part.  
“Then Madara waged a final assault against the Senju with his new power,” she said, her eyes glittering, but with darkness. “He was defeated by the formidable Hashirama Senju. Hashirama, unable to stand fighting with his friend, offered to kill himself, to take his own life in place of Madara’s if it would end the war and stop all of the needless killing.”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Madara glanced away from her, out toward the woods and the village he knew was just beyond them. What a Hashirama thing to do.

The cooling sensation returned to his hand, and when he spared a glance toward it, he saw that it was actually hand-shaped now. He was very tempted to begin flexing and curling his fingers, but he waited lest he undo all of Sakura’s hard work.

She was staring up at him now, as if waiting to see what he might have to say. He had nothing to offer her, as he wasn’t really quite sure what to think. Part of him believed that all of this was a lie on her part, that even his being here was some kind of dream or genjutsu or some other sort of heavenly apparition.

“You were very moved by his speech,” she explained, her voice softer now – not a storyteller’s voice. “The two of you came to an agreement. You would join your clans together and found a village where there would be no wars or fighting.”

Madara inhaled sharply, wanting very much to pull his hand away from her. He could no longer feel her chakra in his hand, and it was no longer aching. There was something unsettling about the way she was looking at him. He wasn’t sure what she wanted from him.

“Are you finished?” he asked her.

She blushed, realizing that she still held his hand in both of hers. She released it, refolding her hands in her lap and keeping her head down low so he couldn’t see her face.

Madara gave her a curious glance before he turned his attention to his hand and began to turn it back and forth, flexing his fingers, balling them up into a fist and then uncurling them. There wasn’t a bit of pain anymore, though there was some stiffness that would no doubt need some tending on his part.

“I’m impressed,” he said to her. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.”

“Umm, thanks,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Madara reached for her chin, using his forefinger to push his head up so that her face was visible to him again.

“Does that exhaust you?” he asked, peering at her face, looking for signs of fatigue. She looked as fresh and exuberant as she had earlier that day when he’d found her, though maybe a little dirtier and sweatier. “Maybe you should sleep,” he suggested.

Sakura let out a huff of annoyed breath. “I really need to get back to the village,” she said, glancing toward the sky through the trees. “People will notice that I’m gone and they’ll come looking for me.”

“Who?” he asked skeptically, not sure if she was just trying to deceive him.

“I missed a meeting at one o’clock today with Tsunade-sama,” she said. “I never miss our meetings, so she’ll be suspicious by now. If I don’t show up for my shift at the hospital in the morning, Tsunade-sama will send some ANBU to look for me, or maybe Kakashi and Naruto.”

There was a lot of new information packed into those words, and Madara didn’t have the patience to go through all of it. He was still reeling from her story about him and Hashirama.

“Will they come here to look for you?” he asked.

Sakura shrugged. “I don’t know where they’ll look first,” she said. “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming up here. I just wanted some quiet and privacy.”

Madara frowned, feeling something that was probably guilt tug at his heartstrings. He had caused her a lot of trouble today.

“I’m terribly sorry to have disturbed it,” he said to her with sincerity he didn’t usually feel.

She looked up at him with those mesmerizing eyes. He still held her chin between his fingers, and he felt her lean into them. There was that magnetic pull again, drawing his face lower, toward hers. Was she even aware of how beautiful she was? If she were back in his time, if he hadn’t been unceremoniously dumped into this bizarre situation, he would have kissed her already. He’d have done far more than kiss her, the more beastly part of his brain thought.

But he couldn’t do that – not yet anyway. First he had to make sense of everything that was happening, and figure out whether his little Sunflower was telling him the truth.

Tomorrow he would take her into the village, disguised so that no one would recognize him. He would find out the rest of Konoha’s history, and discover what remained of the Uchiha clan.

Until then, he needed the girl to sleep. If what she said was true, and people would come looking for her, then he needed to be farther away from the village than this. He needed to eliminate all traces of the lean-to, and get her to a place they wouldn’t be able to find her.

Luckily for Madara, he knew just the spot.

And sensing that his little Sunflower would be less than agreeable about it, and since she was still looking at him with wide, almost trusting eyes (little fool), he swept her up into a genjutsu for the fourth time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to address another few things real quick. First of all, thank you guys so much for the overwhelmingly positive reviews. I was honestly blown away by how much you guys seem to like this fic, so thank you all very much! Secondly, I’m aware I’ve made more mistakes. :’( Madara is currently in the Warring States period NOT the First Shinobi War, and I’m sure there’s other things that haven’t been caught. I apologize for that. Hopefully you guys still like the fic anyway.
> 
> Also, umm I think this is my new OTP? It has always been ItaSaku, but damn this pairing is so much fun to write. I’m already thinking of other potential fics for MadaSaku. I’m open to hearing any suggestions!


	5. Chapter 5

Madara rather liked having Sakura slung over his shoulder. He could feel her tiny little breasts squished against his back, and her thigh was silky and warm beneath his palm where he held her.

Night had fallen completely now. The sky was dark, and visibility was quite low, though that was no problem for a Sharingan wielder. Even if it was fifty years in the future, Madara still knew this land like the back of his own hand.

There was a cave sort of close by. It had taken nearly an hour to reach it, but Madara figured that was far enough away from the village that her friends wouldn’t look for her there. At least not until the two of them were long gone.

It was a pleasant sort of cave, if caves can at all be pleasant. He and Hashirama often fought over its occupancy – namely for use with potential carnal partners. Battlefields can certainly stir romance, but that doesn’t make them romantic. This cave, however, was located near a small stream – perfect for bathing off the aftermath of said carnal pleasures.

It was also secluded, hidden behind a dense brush of trees. The inside was padded with soft, silky dirt, and was just big enough for maybe three or four people to fit comfortably inside.

Madara was mindful of Sakura as he climbed through the brush, making sure not to get her clothing caught on any brambles.

The cave was not quite how he remembered it. There was now an overgrown tuft of grass across its floor now, and hanging moss grew down from its maw. This didn’t bother him at all as he deposited Sakura’s unconscious body inside, propping her up against the stone in such a way that would not cause her any pain. He had a feeling that she would be less than pleased with him when she finally roused.

But he had done a good number on her this time, placing her in a dreamless sleep instead of his usual nightmarish tricks. She would never have fallen asleep on her own, and this way she could at least get some sleep before tomorrow.

It also gave Madara the opportunity to bathe in the stream. As Hashirama had so kindly reminded him just the day before, Madara stank. Two spars, and at least a few days between now and his last bathing had left him in a filthy condition. His Sunflower would probably appreciate some hygiene on his part if they were to be sharing that cave for the night.

He made for the stream, which was only a few paces away. The mouth of the cave was easily visible to him, so he’d be able to catch the girl should she try to run. His Sunflower, he thought as he peeled off his clothes. He wished he could bring her back to his time with him. She would be a handy little thing to have around with those witchy healing powers and endless green eyes.

Since he never took a wife (at least according to her), it seemed logical to bring her back with him and make her his wife. She was small, so childbirth might be rough on her, but she was the best medic in the world (also according to her).

And he certainly couldn’t deny how beautiful she was. He would be the envy of his entire clan with a pretty thing like her on his arm, he thought as he waded into the chilly water.

Madara splashed some cold water into his face and rubbed, cleaning off the dirt and grime of the day (plus fifty years, he supposed). It felt nice and relaxing to be in a familiar place. He gazed up at the dark sky, wondering whether or not he’d ever see his version of the sky again.

Izuna was dead now. The thought disgusted him, made him feel angry with himself for not being able to protect his brother. Sakura had said that Tobirama, Hashirama’s younger brother had killed him. That thought sickened him even more. Were it not for this, Madara might have felt comfortable just staying here, in this time.

If Izuna lived here, even as an old man, surely this life would be preferable than the one he’d go back to. The war was over here. Peace had been made. The village existed, and in Madara’s idyllic version of it, it was filled with beautiful women just like Sakura, and a version of the Uchiha clan so powerful that no one could deny its authority.

Why should he want to go back to his time? Why should he have to fight a war that he knew he would lose? Was it even possible to save Izuna if he managed to get back to his own time? Or was the future, this present he was in, set in stone?

Madara tried to ignore the chill that swept his body when he though that there was a very real possibility that he might never see Izuna again. Why hadn’t he just gone home for dinner like Hashirama had?

In a rather silly attempt to numb himself to those feelings, Madara dunked his head below the surface, plunging it into the cold water. When he emerged, he flipped his wet hair out of his face, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of pink.

Like a bolt of lightning, he was before her, catching her just as she darted toward the trees.

“I don’t think so,” he said, though he couldn’t help but be impressed that she had managed to get herself out of his genjutu. By his calculations, she should have been out for at least another few hours.

He wasn’t touching her, just standing in front of her rather menacingly, but the poor deer looked like she had just seen a ghost. Her hand hovered threateningly over the weapons pouch at her hip, and in the scant, ethereal moonlight, she looked so damn stunning that Madara was annoyed that the image was ruined by the look of sheer horror on her face.

It was then that he noticed her eyes were drawn downwards, fixed on a thrillingly exposed portion of his masculine anatomy.

This ordinarily would have excited him. Everything felt almost as it should be. He was in his favorite sex location, naked, and with the most beautiful girl he had possibly ever seen staring at him.

Only she looked terrified and embarrassed.

“Hmm,” he growled lowly, a little annoyed but not wanting to upset her further. “Caught four times in my genjutsu before you remember you’re not supposed to look in my eyes.”

And then the little fool looked up into his eyes, only now they were comically wide and there was an intense blush on her cheeks.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Never seen a naked man before?”

“Never seen one so brazenly proud of such a tiny dick.”

Oof, his little Sunflower had a sharp tongue. Madara held back his grin. He didn’t need her approval (though he would be hard pressed to deny that he wanted it). He had a kind of confidence that came from experience, and he’d never had trouble pleasing any women before.

She really should have been more forgiving anyway. After all, he had just emerged from the chilly stream, and there was a whipping breeze that tore through the air.

“Well, maybe with your help we can get it to a more satisfactory size,” he said.

She flushed even deeper – a sight he might have missed had it not been for his Sharingan.

“Madara Uchiha, a pervert,” she muttered, glancing off to the side. “Who would have thought?”

Madara held his gaze on her for a moment, wondering whether she would seize this opportunity to either harm him or try to run again. She was in the unique position of having a bit of an upper hand on him. He wouldn’t give chase to her through the woods while naked. Even if he caught her (without getting ‘caught’ on something himself), he would still have to fight her totally nude. He imagined with her strength she could rip his dick clean off his body. Not the kind of touch he was looking for.

“Sunflower,” he said. “Sakura,” he amended quickly, just in case the name still offended her. “You never finished your story. So Hashirama and I founded Konoha. What happened after that?”

“You mean how did he kill you?”

She was avoiding his gaze entirely now, which worried him.

“Yes,” he answered. “If I put my clothes back on, will you tell me?”

Her eyes darted over to the stream, where he knew she could see his clothes piled up near the bank. He thought she might say no. A wiser woman would have.

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll go wait for you in the cave.”

Madara sensed her trickery. He was no fool, and she was clearly desperate to get away from him, which he wouldn’t consider too deeply right now because one, he was naked, and two, her rejection, however warranted, stung.

“No funny business,” he warned.

“Said the naked man to the fully clothed woman.”

He gave her a dry look before gesturing toward the cave, allowing her to go first. Not that it wouldn’t have thrilled him to have her eyes follow him to the stream, but it seemed only proper after her flagrant displeasure at seeing him naked.

So he watched her instead, keeping a careful eye out for whatever deceit she surely had planned. There would be no other reason to give up such an easy opportunity for escape.

Quickly, he ran to the stream and gathering his clothes, pulling them as fast as he could onto his damp body. Had he not felt a flash of chakra from inside the cave, he might have taken the time to dry off first, but now it wasn’t an option.

He practically flew to the mouth’s cave, his eyes scanning, arms reaching for whatever trick she was playing.

But when he entered the cave, Sakura was merely sitting there, reclined against the wall as if she had done nothing at all.

“What did you just do?” he demanded.

“Nothing.”

Madara narrowed his eyes.

“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll tell you how you die.”

With his Sharingan, he scoured the entirety of the cave. He could see remnants of chakra usage on her, and what appeared to be some sort of slimy substance in the grass that he could not identify. It was so near to Sakura’s legs, that he could only presume it had come from her, but it was clearly fresh and clearly—

“The Senju and the Uchiha joined forces and created Konoha,” she began, even though he had yet to sit down. “They gathered all their affiliated clans – the Hyuuga, the Akimichi, the Aburame,” she listed.

“Sakura, what the hell did you just do?”

“I was just healing an injury, that’s all.”

He gave her body a quick scan. Seeing nothing wrong with her, he glanced back at the whitish slime on the ground. “What is that?” he asked her, pointing to the puddle near her knee.

Sakura glanced down at her lap, and her face went white. “It’s a healing salve,” she said quickly.

Madara scoffed. He could see how she quivered and shook in her little corner of the cave. She looked guilty as fuck. He reached into his pocket for a kunai and knelt down in front of her. He nearly rolled his eyes as she cowered away from him, slinking up against the stone behind her. He sliced a shallow cut into his forearm, watching her watch the blood drip into the grass. A little hesitantly, because he didn’t know what this stuff was, he dipped two fingers into the slime and wiped it over the fresh cut.

He wasn’t sure whether or not to be surprised when the cut began to heal itself. He flicked his gaze up to Sakura’s face. She was looking at her feet.

“Where were you injured?” he asked.

“My… crotch.”

His eyes slid down to her lap. She uncrossed her legs and brought her knees together and then pulled them self-consciously up to her chest. Something about seeing her sitting in a fetal position annoyed him, so he grabbed onto both her ankles with one hand and pulled her legs out straight.

“And how did you attain this crotch injury?”

She swallowed. “Self inflicted.”

His eyes narrowed on her, but she wasn’t looking at him.

“Anyway, all of the clans got together and voted for a Hokage,” Sakura said, tripping and stuttering nervously over her words. “It came down to you and Hashirama-sama. Both of you were strong contenders. You may think you’re powerful now, Madara-sama, but by the end of the war, you were a force to be reckoned with.”

In spite of himself, Madara smirked at her blatant display of flattery.

“But the villagers chose Hashirama-sama,” she said, “because he had a much bigger dick and he was really handsome.”

Madara reached out and grabbed her by the neck, applying tight enough pressure that she was unable to make the noise of surprise that caught in her throat.

“Look at me,” he said, but the little kunoichi had finally wised up. Her eyes were screwed shut and he saw her begin to breath conservatively instead of gasping for breath like most people would. He wasn’t quite choking her, but breathing probably wasn’t easy.

“You better hope I don’t find out what you did while I was getting dressed,” he said, breathing the words over her face. “I’m starting to run out of patience for you.”

“Then why don’t you just let me go?” she choked.

“Because I don’t trust you or your Senju Hokage.” He let go of her, feeling a little conflicted about having grabbed her in the first place.

“But I want to go home and sleep in my bed,” she whined. “I was going to take a bubble bath and finish my book.”

“Yeah, well, join the club,” he snapped. “You think I wouldn’t rather be home right now, too? I haven’t eaten in a day and a half, and I didn’t even get to finish bathing thanks to you.”

She glared at a spot on his face that wasn’t quite his eyes. She probably wasn’t aware that it was close enough to his eyes that he would still be able to sweep her into a genjutsu if he chose to.

“So I’m supposed to feel sympathy for you then?” she hissed. “You’ve kidnapped me multiple times, and now you’re holding me here against my will. You already punished me for breaking your hand, and I fucking fixed it, so I see no reason why you shouldn’t let me go.”

Madara crossed his arms over his chest, and he knew his expression probably close to resembled a pout. He didn’t like the idea of holding her here against her will, except that he sort of did a little bit, but in a totally irrelevant way. He envied her in a way, because home was so close. She could just run back to her village and climb into her own bed. When she woke, she could pretend that this whole day had just been a bad dream and life would return to normal.

There wasn’t even a normal for Madara to go back to. His home might not even exist anymore, and if it did, it wasn’t exactly the most pleasant thing to come back to. War, the loss of his brother, a life without marriage or children, and then death at the hands of his best friend?

He glanced back at Sakura with suspicion.

“So Hashirama became Hokage,” he said, leveling her with a serious gaze. “Tell me what happens after.”

Sakura let out a frustrated sigh, but she re-crossed her legs beneath her, and looked at some spot on his neck.

“Hashirama-sama was an excellent Hokage,” she said. “He was kind and charming and all the villagers loved him.” Madara scoffed. That sounded like Hashirama. “He believed in ruling the village with the Will of Fire, imbuing all of us with the spirit of protecting one another and putting others’ needs before our own.”

Sakura’s face darkened, and he wished he knew what she was thinking.

“Well, you weren’t for that,” she continued. “Other villages had begun to form across the other nations, and Hashirama wanted to cooperate with them, but you felt like you needed to exert power and control over them to ensure that peace remained across the nations.”

She paused for a moment, and the silence of the night was a little unsettling. Her eyes met his, and he might not have seen it if he hadn’t been looking at her already, but he noticed a bit of longing in her expression – something so earnestly yearning that he almost asked her outright what it was for. Instead he remained silent as he held her gaze, a little curious as to why she decided to look into his eyes now.

“I’m of the opinion that that is an extremely poor way to maintain peace,” she said, her voice carefully neutral.

It was such a polite disagreement that Madara wasn’t sure he wanted to feel upset about it. Having not been in the position she had just described yet, he wondered if there were other reasons he wanted to have power and control over the other villages.

“Well, why don’t you just hang onto your opinions for now?” he asked, mirroring her neutral tone.

She dropped her gaze. “The rest of the village agreed with Hashirama,” she said. “You feared that the Senju would take control of the village and overpower the Uchiha. You believed that Konoha was a failed experiment, and that peace could never truly exist. Maybe you were right about that. You tried to convince your clan of that, but they wouldn’t listen. Neither would Hashirama. I guess we didn’t really know what you were feeling exactly at the time, but it must have been a lot of rage. You felt abandoned by your clan and your best friend. So you abandoned the village. You were the first missing-nin.”

Madara swallowed the thickness in his throat, eyeing Sakura for any signs of a lie. It seemed an awful lot like she was telling the truth, but he wanted desperately for all of that to be an elaborate fabrication on her part.

“You may have been right about the whole peace thing,” she said, and he had a feeling he was about to get a torrent of opinions that he did not want. “There have been three more wars since the one you fought. We’re in peacetime now, but peace is always a temporary thing, I think. It’s just in our nature to fight each other. I mean just look at the two of us now. There isn’t peace between us.”

He didn’t think that was true, though he could see why she wouldn’t think so. She wanted to be away from him so badly, and he was holding her here out of fear of the consequences of letting her go tell her advanced village, who probably hated him if her story was true – not to mention that Senju Hokage.

But it wasn’t her that he harbored any resentment towards. She wasn’t the one he was worried about. She wasn’t any more hostile than he was. She was a kunoichi, just doing her job. If she wanted to be back home in her bed, then he wanted that for her too. Wasn’t that peace?

“But your idea of peace was worse, Madara. You have to see that,” she said. “You can’t force people into peace. They have to want it themselves. Control is just dictatorship, and that isn’t what’s—”

“Alright, Sunflower, I understand what you’re saying.”

He wanted to slap her. That wasn’t usually the kind of urge he repressed, but he was feeling a little uncertain about things and he didn’t want to make his situation worse. So the village had favored Hashirama. That made perfect sense, he was loath to admit. But he wasn’t that Madara yet. He hadn’t made those decisions yet. It seemed unfair to take blame and resentment for actions he had yet to commit.

Whether or not he would make them in the future made little difference. Right now, he didn’t deserve the village’s hatred.

“Will you do things differently if you ever make it back to your time?” she asked.

His eyes darted to hers, and she was actually looking at him again. The poor wretch just couldn’t help herself. He supposed he couldn’t really blame her. He found her eyes quite mesmerizing, and he knew for a fact that his were even more so. Sometimes he wondered about the thrill of gazing into an enemy’s Sharingan. Did she even realize how much danger she was in? Is that why she liked to look?

“Are you trying to determine whether you should treat me as a hostile or not?” he asked.

Sakura scoffed. “I’ve been asking myself that since you stopped me from jumping off the cliff,” she said dryly. “I know that you—” She eyed him languidly. “—are not the same man who attacked Konoha. Not yet, anyway.”

“I attack Konoha?”

Cloying silence thickened the air in the cave. Sakura held his gaze with a fearful sort of confidence. “You confronted Hashirama with the Nine Tails,” she said tersely. “It was an epic battle. There’s even a—”

Madara silenced her with a palm clapped over her mouth. He could sense several chakra signatures approaching, and they were moving very quickly. Sakura had screwed her eyes shut again, and now he was beginning to suspect the worst from her.

“What the hell did you do?” he asked her again. She didn’t answer. “Look at me, you fucking fool.”

She didn’t look at him, and she couldn’t speak even if she wanted because his hand covered her mouth, but he knew her well enough now to know that she wouldn’t willingly speak this time. Roughly, he jerked her face up toward his, squeezing her face hard enough that it would undoubtedly leave a bruise.

“Don’t make me peel your eyelids open,” he said.

Sakura’s eyes remained screwed shut, and he felt a jolt of electricity enter his hand through her face. He winced but didn’t let go of her. He could see that it wasn’t any kind of jutsu, but more of that perfect chakra control of hers at work.

“Hmm, so you’ve got some other tricks up your sleeve?” he asked. “I’m disappointed you didn’t show them to me earlier.”

He could feel her begin to amass chakra in her fists, and he certainly wasn’t about to allow that. He let go of her face in favor of grabbing both of her wrists, one in each hand. He felt the ebbing waves of her chakra signature as she flared it, and he realized with horror that she had somehow called for help.

“Listen, kunoichi,” he seethed. “I don’t want to kill you, but it looks like you’ve forced my hand here. I can’t risk you spilling my secret yet. If you try to fight me, I will kill you.”

She was a trembling ball of nerves, cowering against the wall behind her as best she could with her wrists still bound by Madara’s hands. Her eyes were open, though, and they were looking off toward the mouth of the cave. If she thought she only had to hold out long enough for her backup to arrive, she was sorely mistaken.

“I will kill you and all your friends out there,” he warned, “unless you cooperate.”

Sakura growled, and he took it that she did not like for her friends to be threatened. He didn’t want to attack her friends, or see them at all. It would be much stealthier to avoid them entirely and find somewhere else to hide out for a while. An entire squad killed would arouse suspicion, though he supposed that kidnapping the Hokage’s apprentice had a similar effect.

He needed to make a decision fast.

“Look at me,” he said again, because if he could just get her back into a genjutu, he could sling her over his back, which he’d developed a fondness for by now, and simply outrun the fools who were looking for her.

But now she chose to actually be smart about looking into his eyes.

Shinobi were now getting close. He could hear their soft footsteps very faintly off in the distance. She must have given them their precise location, but how?

“What’s it going to be, Sakura?” he asked her.

She didn’t respond, and it made a tightly coiled spring of rage snap inside him. He didn’t want to have to kill her. There were so many other things he wanted to do with her, and she hadn’t quite outlived her usefulness to him yet. If she would just fucking cooperate…

It was completely impulsive, borne from the fear that he was about to have to kill her and this would be his last ever chance to attempt such a thing, but he yanked her closer to him, let go of her arms so he could grab both sides of her face, and pressed his lips to hers with frantic fervor.

He had kissed quite a few women before, but he had never necessarily stolen said kisses. She was clearly hostile toward him, and he had forced himself on her after threatening to kill her and her friends, so it was to his great surprise that he felt her soften against him. Her fists lost their chakra, and her fingers moved up to his chest.

Even her lips, though they weren’t really kissing him back, were pliant and vulnerable beneath his. He felt her suck in a ragged breath, and he noticed the way her fingers shook where they had hooked into his damp tunic.

Madara pulled back away from her, wishing so much that he could have a little more time with her.

But his foolish little Sunflower was looking at him now, eyes wide and brimming with awe and admiration, though he’d be blind not to see the fear, anxiety, and frustration there, too. He hadn’t intended for it to work out this way, but he was exceptionally pleased that now he wouldn’t have to kill her.

Though she would likely be furious with him for it, and he would have to keep a much closer eye on her from now on, Madara sucked her into another genjutsu – and this time he made sure it was one she wouldn’t be able to break out of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know y’all are getting sick of him using genjutsu on her, but don’t worry, he’s done doing that for a while. He just doesn’t want to hurt her, ya know? She’s too pretty. If you can live with that I’ll give you a bonus chapter tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

Madara tore the trees, not caring that Sakura’s body was being banged against the brush as he went. The shinobi chasing Sakura were getting close to his cave now, but he was already long gone. If he was being hunted now, then he would go hide in plain sight.

He was beginning to grow sick of not having answers, and he certainly wasn’t going to get what he needed from Sakura, little trickster that she was. If he wanted to make any progress, he had to go into the village.

The danger of it didn’t outweigh his curiosity anymore. Unless Sakura had managed to out him already, no one knew he was here. Even the Senju Hokage would be fooled by a simple henge. He wanted desperately to see what the village was like, to see the current state of his clan.

Madara raced along the edge of the forest, clutching Sakura tightly against his shoulder. Her body was so warm and he was still damp and the night air was chilly. It was a small complaint, but it would have been nice to have a fire going to dry off, and maybe Sakura’s warm body pressed against his side.

By now he had lost the squad of shinobi, so he didn’t necessarily have to run, but Sakura had proved to be a tricky little thing, and he wanted to have secured a place to stay by the time she was able to break herself free from the genjutsu.

He was surprised when he finally arrived at the village and he could see lights so bright that they seemed to dim the stars above. It seemed that just because night had fallen didn’t mean that the villagers were all sleeping. Even though it was well past midnight now, everything still seemed to be bustling with activity.

From the edge of the cliff he had first met Sakura on, he carefully leapt down to the footholds. Holding Sakura aloft as he climbed, he realized that the stone he was climbing on was face shaped, though he was far too close to make out whose face it was.

Down at the bottom, he glanced toward the narrow path into the village. It seemed so much more massive up close. And it was all here because of him and Hashirama.

Quickly, Madara used a henge, giving himself a randomized, ordinary face and cropped brown hair. It occurred to him that maybe the village had evolved to have pink hair and he would stick out with brown hair. And if that wasn’t the case, then Sakura would be easily recognizable – especially as the Hokage’s apprentice. The missing Hokage’s apprentice. He couldn’t just walk about the village with her casually flung over his shoulder.

So he cast a simple genjutsu around himself – one that would convince passersby that there was no girl on his shoulder and he was just taking a late night stroll by his lonesome.

He ambled down the path to the village and stepped into the brightly lit street. He was accosted with a litany of new smells and sounds. There was a salty, briny scent in the air, and there was shouting and the clinking of glass coming from somewhere nearby. Madara peered into the restaurants and food stalls he passed, ignoring the way his stomach growled in protest.

He had never seen so much color in one place. The roofs were all rich jewel tones – deep reds and burgundies, purples and mauves. Neon signs of yellow, green, and orange advertised their sweet pastries and low cost drinks to him. It was as if every building was beckoning him inside.

Never had he wanted to explore so much. He almost felt like a child again. It was hard to look back with any regret at all if he knew his actions would result in something as magnificent and alluring as Konoha. There were so many things to look at – a flower shop with baskets of blooms in the window, a fountain that shot water up several meters above his head in to high arcs, buildings that loomed so high over his head that they seemed to pierce the sky.

But first things first, he needed to find Sakura’s home. He hoped desperately that she lived alone (and was unmarried, but that was a separate issue).

Making sure that none of the civilians littered amongst the street were looking at him, Madara leaned his head toward Sakura and inhaled. In spite of sparring and being kidnapped and spending all day in the forest, she smelled pleasant – like cucumber and citrus and something a little muskier.

He lifted his head and sniffed the air. He hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to find her home. There were just so many other smells to distract him. But as he wandered the streets, he approached what appeared to be a residential area, and as he neared it, he could catch a faint whiff of Sakura’s scent.

Madara followed the scent, pleased that the streets seemed to be more vacant here and he was away from prying eyes.

Her scent led him to a rather dull looking building – one large and square and filled with identical windows and doors and stairs, just a monotonous grey block of stone. He rolled his eyes, feeling rather annoyed that the place she lived happened to also be the ugliest building in Konoha.

Inside, he caught her scent more strongly and followed it to an apartment on the third floor.

It was locked, but he kicked it open anyway. He would have to make sure to tell her the importance of using protection seals when she woke up.

The inside of her apartment was far more lovely than the outside, Madara was pleased to note. The first, most predominant thing he noticed was the amount of greenery. There were all sorts of succulents, house plants, flowers, and shrubs tucked into various corners of her home, filling the place with a fresh, earthy smell. There were books and scrolls stacked haphazardly in piles on the floor, and what appeared to be empty food containers littered across her kitchen table.

He wasn’t quite sure why, but the sight of it made him smile. He carried her down the short hall into what was clearly her bedroom, and deposited her unceremoniously onto the mattress. That looked nice and cozy, he thought, eyeing the silky sheets and plump pillows.

Her bedroom was quite small, but it was filled with all sorts of girlish knickknacks, and what appeared to be some medical research and equipment, and a few smaller weapons like shuriken and senbon.

It was a framed picture beside her bed that caught his intrigue first though. He lifted it up and brought it to the window so he could see it in the proper light. The tomoe of his Sharingan spun as he stared at the four people in the picture.

One was obviously Sakura – a much younger Sakura. She was grinning, flanked by two boys, one of which was a dead ringer for Izuna. Madara blinked, swallowing something that was clawing its way up his throat. That boy was definitely an Uchiha, and even though he wore a typical Uchiha scowl on his face, he appeared to be in perfectly good health.

The other two people in the picture didn’t interest him at all, so Madara sat down beside Sakura on her bed, reverently touching the young Uchiha’s face. It looked so much like Izuna that for one second he hoped that it was some sort of preservation jutsu, or reverse aging jutsu, or something.

No, he thought with a shake of his head. That’s impossible. He could see it now – those tiny differences. Two different shades of charcoal eyes, a freckle or two that didn’t belong. This must be that Sasuke guy she kept mentioning.

Hesitantly, he set the picture back down. He should be trying to scrounge up something to eat, or looking through her books for tomes about the village’s history. But he was just so exhausted and he missed home. With a sigh, he leaned back against the mattress, his head settling into the crook of Sakura’s leg.

She smelled so good this close, and her bed, while extravagant, was so comfortable. She was so warm and he thought for a moment of how nice it would be to just curl up beside her and fall asleep. He’d never even fathomed actually sleeping beside a woman before.

But of course he couldn’t do that. He needed to stay away and make sure Sakura didn’t try anything else. He was in her territory now, and she’d have all sorts of legs up on him when she finally roused.

So instead he just stared at the ceiling and contented himself with listening to her slow, even breaths.

It was almost as good as sleeping.

///

It was around four in the morning when Sakura flung herself from the mattress and onto the floor, inadvertently kicking Madara in the chest. He was on her immediately, wresting her hands to her sides and pinning them down.

“Hey, hey, cool it,” he said, moving to straddle her as she thrashed wildly about. “You’re okay. Just calm down.”

Sakura stilled beneath him, and oh she did feel wonderful beneath him. He watched the dawning of realization on her as she glanced frantically around her room. He would have assumed she felt safer here, but maybe his presence had something to do with her anxiety.

It certainly had something to do with her blush, he thought, watching her avoid his gaze and grow the deepest shade of red he had ever seen.

“You wanted to sleep in your bed, so I brought you to you bed,” he said. “And with my supervision, you can even take a bath if you want to.”

Slowly, she began to sit up, so Madara moved from on top of her. She reached for a shoe beneath her bed. Madara thought that she might smack him with it, but instead she lobbed it toward a metal plate on the wall beside the door. It hit with deadly accuracy and cast harsh, fluorescent light over the room.

She finally looked at his eyes. He mused that he should stop pulling her into genjutsus or she would never look at him again, and he just couldn’t bear the thought of that.

But she was looking now, and instead of anger or fear, she looked like she wanted to cry. There was something resembling shame on her face, and her cheeks and nose were so abhorrently red that he worried she might be sick or injured in some kind of way.

The poor thing clenched her teeth with a burgeoning anger. Madara enjoyed watching the wave of it crest of her face. And then she was rearing back her open hand. There was no chakra in it, but Madara wasn’t about to be demeaned in such a way, so he caught her wrist before her blow could land.

“You pervert!” she shrieked.

“Oh, relax,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

“You kissed me!”

Madara said nothing, because that was true. He hardly thought it was something for her to be upset over. He thought she might have even enjoyed it a little bit.

But she rather dramatically burst into tears and began to sob uncontrollably into her hands.

Disgusted, Madara stood up and backed away from her. “Pull yourself together,” he snapped. “Why the hell are you crying?”

Sakura rose to her feet, too, and in the new light he could see the wetness of her cheeks, the redness of her eyes, and the way her lower lip trembled as she tried vainly to compose herself. It had annoyed him at first. Crying was a sign of weakness, and he knew she was better than that. But she looked sort of pretty this way. Her eyes sparkled, her skin was beautifully flushed. 

There was a bit of charm to her tears.

“You stole my first kiss.”

He blinked.

“No way,” Madara laughed. “I don’t believe that.”

“I was saving it for someone,” she said. She wasn’t sobbing anymore, but she was still crying, and the absurdity of it made him laugh. Women in his time were fucking begging to be kissed, and here she was crying about it.

“Aww,” he said, just a touch patronizing. “For whom was my little Sunflower saving her first kiss?”

“Not you,” she snapped.

“Well, I’ve taken it and there’s no point in crying about it,” he said. “You have bigger things to worry about, don’t you? Madara Uchiha is in your bedroom.”

Sakura squared her shoulders to him, and he liked to see her compose herself quickly. She brushed her tears away, gone as quickly as they came. It was just the red rims of her eyes and the slight tremor in her voice that gave her away now.

“Why would you bring me here?” she asked.

“Because you just can’t keep your eyes off me,” he said. “So I know I’ll be safe here. Now mask your chakra. Your friends are still looking for you.”

He thought she might have needed more convincing than that, but almost immediately he felt her chakra signature vanish.

“Alright, Madara,” she said, and now her tone had a motherly quality to it that made him raise a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m going to keep your secret for now. I know you don’t trust me or whatever, but it’s clear to me that you have no clue how to begin looking for help, so you’re going to need mine. I’ve decided to help you get back to your own time.”

Well, that might have been the most adorable thing he’d ever heard. But it was also kind of a relief. He had no clue what he was doing.

“How do you intend to help me, Sunflower?”

“If you want my help then you’re going to have to stop with the Sunflower and the kissing and the perverse comments,” she said.

“I’ll give up two out of three,” he bartered. “You can choose.”

She scowled fiercely at him, but he found it rather endearing. She stalked past him, brushing dangerously close to him as she made her way out into the hallway. Bemused, Madara followed her into the kitchen where she began to open and close cabinets with unnecessary zeal.

It was apparent that she was angrily making herself something to eat, so Madara invited himself to sit at the counter and watch her.

“We’re not staying here, you know,” she said, pulling an armful of ingredients out of the weird, lit icebox. Madara took a moment to glance around at the bizarre machinery in her kitchen. “I have a job, and since people are looking for me, I can’t just stay home until you get this figured out.”

He watched her crack the eggs into a bowl and begin to whisk. There was something mesmerizing about the motion. His eyes dipped a little lower than her face, watching that lithe little body move as she stirred.

“I guess this is where you have a choice,” she said, and his eyes darted back up to hers, but she was turning away from him now. She pulled a container of rice out of a cabinet and began to pour some into a weird contraption he had never seen before. She then added some water, pressed a few buttons, and turned back to face him.

“You can meet Tsunade-sama and see if there is any way she can help you,” she explained. “She will have the most knowledge about this sort of thing, and since she’s Hashirama’s granddaughter—”

“She’s Hashirama’s granddaughter?”

“She’s more likely to know about your history than, say, one of the village historians. She’s got a first hand account it, I’d wager,” Sakura said, ignoring Madara’s new hostility.

So had the village continued to elect Senju over the years democratically? Or had the Senju seized power unjustly, letting their family members take the leadership position over and over again? Madara scowled with disgust.

Seeing the look on his face, Sakura frowned. “I figured you wouldn’t like that option,” she said, and he definitely didn’t, but that wasn’t the reason for his scowl. “I still think it’s the smartest one, but here’s option two.”

She turned back to her icebox and began pulling more things out of it, setting them on the counter. “I know you don’t trust me,” she said as she began to chop some mushrooms and onions. “But I understand why you want me to keep your presence a secret. You’ve got a grudge against the Senju, and this place is run by one. Now you know that I work directly beneath Tsunade-sama as her apprentice, so it was really unfortunate that you ran into me on the cliffside instead of, well, anyone else. I don’t like to keep secrets from my master.”

Madara narrowed his eyes at her, unsure of where she was going with this. She continued to busy herself with chopping vegetables.

“In spite of how unfairly mean to me you’ve been—” Madara scoffed. He’d been terribly easy on the pretty little thing. She was lucky he had been as kind to her as he’d been. “—I think I have a plan that you might like.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder. Their eyes met in that familiar way they now did, and it made Madara want to smile but he didn’t.

“I’ll grab as much information as I can about time travel, your clan, and the village history,” she said. “I told—”

Sakura abruptly cut herself off, and a look of sudden fear swelled over her features, clouding those green eyes with uncertainty.

“I told Tsunade-sama that I have been kidnapped,” she said, swallowing audibly. Madara tried not to show his surprise. With all the advanced technology here, it was no surprise that they would have an effective means of quick communication. He wondered if that’s what she had done in the cave earlier when he had been dressing.

“I didn’t tell her by whom, of course,” she said. “I figured that was a conversation better had face to face with her. Still, she believes I’m kidnapped somewhere, which I guess absolves me of my work duties for now.”

Madara roved his eyes over her skeptically. “Are you suggesting that I actually kidnap you?”

“You did kidnap me,” she snapped. “No actually about it. I know it seems a little stupid, but Tsunade-sama has a short temper, and even though I think she would still help you, your presence here would be… unwelcome. You do some bad things in the future, you know.”

He flicked his gaze away from her, not liking the maternal reprimand in her voice.

“But you haven’t done those things yet, so I personally don’t hold it against you, though I can’t speak for the rest of the village,” she said. He could hear her bustling around with things in the kitchen, but he wouldn’t look at her. “I want to help you get back to your time. You don’t belong here, and I’ll feel partially responsible for whatever crimes you commit while you are here.”

He scoffed, displeased by the fact that she just presumed he would definitely commit crimes, though, he supposed since she knew his future actions better than he did, she might be right.

“You said earlier you didn’t think there was a way to travel backwards through time,” he pointed out.

“Well, I also didn’t think it was possible to travel forwards, either, yet here you are.”

He looked back toward her. She was standing at the stove, cooking something that he couldn’t see. Beside the stove was a single plate of steaming rice. Madara eyed it hungrily, willing his stomach not to growl. He didn’t figure she’d be cruel enough to make food for herself and not for him, too, yet there was only a single plate.

“Anyway, I’ll just grab what I can and we can get the fuck out of here,” she said. “I promise I won’t tell your secret. We can go a safe distance outside the village while we figure all of this out. I have a few resources I think that might help us, and I know someone… someone who might be able to help us out. Someone outside Konoha.”

Madara gave her a look of disbelief. “After your escape attempt, how can I be sure that you won’t try to run away again?” he demanded.

“Because this time I’m coming with you willingly instead of being kidnapped, you knob,” she snapped. “You did win the spar, after all. A deal is a deal. And maybe I haven’t made it clear, but I don’t want you here. You’re a danger to the village, and it’s my duty, as the one who found you, to make sure you don’t harm it more than I know you will.”

He sucked in a calming breath, trying to settle the rage clouding his head. He didn’t like to be called names, or talked down to, or treated as a filthy criminal. He was one of the most powerful men in the world, and to be spoken to in such a way by such a weak kunoichi—

A plated omelet was placed before him, steaming rice and mushrooms underneath. He looked up at her with surprised, but she had already turned back around and was filling a mug with fresh tea.

“Eat all of it,” she commanded, and then placed the mug in front of him. “Then drink all of this.”

Madara’s growling stomach undermined his frosty glare. He did not appreciate being told what to do.

Sakura ignored this as she turned back to the sink and filled up a large glass of water. “Drink all of this, too,” she said. “You didn’t eat all day yesterday, and I can tell that you’re dehydrated.”

Madara poked idly at the food she had given him. It smelled divine, but she could have poisoned it in some way. He also found it suspicious that she hadn’t prepared any food for herself.

“If I was going to poison you, it wouldn’t be through food,” she said.

He looked up at her.

“Poisons are actually my specialty,” she explained, “but I prefer to coat my weapons with them.”

This was not reassuring to him in the slightest, but it had been a long time since he had eaten a home cooked meal, or any food at all. With his Sharingan, he couldn’t detect any kind of chakra based poison in it, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything there.

“You take the first bite,” he commanded.

Sakura rolled his eyes – something that ordinarily would have annoyed him, but he found it sort of cute. She reached for his chopsticks, snatching them out of his hand with ferocity, and took a bit of egg from his plate. He watched her carefully as she brought it to her mouth and chewed, looking for any signs that the little healer girl in her was working her magic.

“See? It’s fine.”

“Then why didn’t you make any for yourself?”

“Because I wanted something to keep you occupied while I go take a bath.”

She passed the chopsticks back to him, and he gazed at the ends of them, still wet from being in her mouth.

“I’ll eat while you bathe,” he agreed, and Sakura looked satisfied with his agreement. “But I’m not leaving you alone again. Last time I did that you sent a message to your Hokage.”

“You’re not going to watch me take a bath, you pervert.”

From the stern set of her jaw and the fierce blaze in her eyes, Madara concluded that this was an issue she would not budge on.

“Fine,” he said, even though it definitely wasn’t. “I’ll wait just outside the door, then.”

This looked equally unacceptable to her, but she was wise enough not to say so. “I’ll be quick,” she muttered dryly, and then Madara was alone in her kitchen.

He stared after her retreating form, watching her disappear into the bathroom. A second later he could hear the splash of running water against porcelain. Madara grabbed his plate and began to eat as he wandered closer to her bathroom door.

The food was far more delicious than anything he’d ever eaten at home camp, and he nearly inhaled it all by the time he’d made it to the bathroom door. He could see why some of the civilians he had passed had round bellies if they had pretty little wives like Sakura to cook them hot meals, and no war to fight.

The water was loud, even through the door that was between them now. Madara was a highly trained shinobi, so the locked bathroom door should be no challenge for him. He cast a quick genjutsu over himself – one that created a pocket of silence and invisibility around him. That was why Sakura didn’t even flinch as he wrenched the bathroom door open, snapping the metal knob clean off the door.

Inside her bathroom was not at all what he had expected. It so blindingly white, and so clean it looked sterile. Instead of a proper bath like he had imagined, Sakura’s bathroom contained a glass box in which a stream of water flowed. He could see Sakura’s silhouette in the fogged up glass, beige and pink and perfect.

Her back was turned toward him as she lathered her hair with soap. He watched, totally mesmerized as she rinsed her hair and then began to scrub the dirt and grime from her body.

Madara’s cheeks began to feel warm, though he blamed this on the muggy heat of the bathroom. He’d be hard-pressed to deny his attraction for the little kunoichi, but it felt wrong to look at her like. She clearly did not want him to.

He had half a mind to leave, because she was obviously just bathing and not sending out anymore illicit messages to her Hokage.

But then his beautiful, angelic, Sunflower of a healer-girl shut the water off and stepped out of her little glass box, wet and clean and naked and absolutely perfect.


	7. Chapter 7

Sakura was quite literally the more gorgeous creature Madara had ever seen. Every inch of her skin was smooth and unmarred by any imperfections like scars or bruises. He imagined being a healer helped with that. Her figure was delicately feminine, but not without the kind of leanness and muscle that came from serious training. There was a gentle swell to her breasts, small but pert, with rosy little nipples that nearly matched the color of her hair.

It was a natural shade, Madara noted with perverted glee, his gaze lowering past her tiny waist, narrow hips, down to the pink patch of curls between her legs. He could see drops of water clinging to them, and he imagined what kind of sounds she would make if he were to bury his face there.

Fortunately she didn’t see him right away. His illusion had made certain of that. But she did notice that her bathroom door was now broken, hanging open on its hinges.

Angrily, she swiped a towel from the bar on the wall and wrapped it around herself. She stalked toward the door, and Madara, who could have moved out of her to protect himself from her wrath, chose not to do so, allowing her to bump into his invisible body and shatter the illusion around him.

She shrieked with surprise, nearly dropping the towel she held clutched at her modest bosom. “What the hell are you doing?” she yelled, backing away from him until her back was against the sink.

Madara couldn’t answer immediately. He was sort of entranced by the way her eyes were on him, angry but also afraid. He hated that he was in no position to comfort her, being the source of her discomfort. He didn’t want her to be scared of him, except when he needed her to be.

That was a paradox he became stuck on for a moment, torn between wanting to find some way to have her warm up to him, trust him, maybe even allow him to touch her in ways that someone who had never been kissed before had probably never been touched, and wanting to maintain that proper sense of fear and respect she fostered for him. He couldn’t have both, could he?

Seeing her naked (which he bartered internally with himself was only fair, because she had seen him naked), had put him in a position where his dick was likelier to decide which was preferable, but he knew he needed to be using his brain at the moment. He actually regretted coming into her bathroom now.

“I had to make sure you weren’t going to do anything stupid,” he said, though he rather felt like he was the one who had done something stupid.

Sakura clutched tightly at her towel. The small thing hardly covered her at all, but it didn’t matter. Madara had already committed her naked body to memory. Still, his eyes lingered on her now, and she flushed so prettily under his gaze.

“Well, as I’m sure you saw,” she seethed, “I didn’t do anything stupid. So can I get dressed now?”

Madara’s eyes dragged slowly up her body to her face, which was red with anger and embarrassment, to her eyes that blazed with unadulterated fury.

“Please do,” he said, unable to prevent the way his lips twitched in an effort to contain his lecherous grin.

The grin dropped when he felt another two chakra signatures in the apartment. His was already masked, and so was Sakura’s, but that did little to quell the sudden fear that seized him. Who would be coming to her apartment at such an early hour?

Sakura cursed quietly under her breath, putting a finger to her lips as she flipped the lights off and cast total darkness around them.

“Who would want to kidnap Sakura-chan?” he heard a voice say. It came from the direction of her bedroom, so Madara assumed the two shinobi had come through her window.

There was a shuffling noise, and then a few small thuds.

“Could have been bounty hunters looking for ransom,” said another deeper voice. “She’s got a high price in the Bingo book.”

“Sakura-chan could easily take a couple of bounty hunters,” said the first voice.

There was more shuffling, and the two sets of footsteps diverged – one heading back toward the kitchen and the other toward the bathroom. In the darkness, Madara felt Sakura’s fingers curl around his arm. Quickly, he cast the same genjutsu as before, this time hiding both himself and Sakura.

The bathroom door burst open and a blonde haired boy – the one Madara had seen in the picture, stepped inside.

“Kakashi-sensei, look,” he said as he flipped the lights back on. His eyes scanned the room, but Madara stood between him and Sakura now, slowly backing her toward the sink and into the corner in case the boy came further into the bathroom. “The doorknob is broken.”

A masked, silver-haired shinobi – the other from the picture, came around the corner. His lowered headband covered one of his eyes.

He peered at the broken knob, and then gave a quick glance around the room. Madara felt Sakura grow tense behind him. The walls of the shower were still fogged up, and there was dampness all over the floor where Sakura’s had dripped.

“Someone’s been in here recently,” the silver-haired man said. Madara dryly applauded his great detective work. But then he was lifting that headband of his, and the red, tomoe-filled eye that was revealed made Madara’s heart nearly explode.

That was definitely not an Uchiha, and Madara could tell by the scar that it was a transplant – likely a stolen one.

Sakura’s hands came up to his back, and she curled her fingers into his tunic and pressed her forehead between his shoulder blades as if she were pleading by way of physical contact for him to remain calm.

He had to hand it to her that it worked. He wanted so badly to reach for that silver-haired man’s throat and demand to know where that eye had come from, who he had stolen it from. But doing that would blow his cover, would reveal that he, Madara Uchiha was in the village and was the one who had kidnapped the Hokage’s apprentice.

The silver-haired man roved his Sharingan eye over the bathroom, but Madara was pleased to see that he was unable to see through the genjutsu he had cast.

“Maybe it was Ino,” the silver-haired man said, lowering his headband back over his eye. “She came by here earlier looking for Sakura.”

“Why would Ino take a shower in Sakura-chan’s apartment?” the blonde asked.

Madara tensed, preparing for the worst. If these were the same people from that photograph, then they were Sakura’s friends. He couldn’t put it past her if she broke around his genjutsu to get their attention. If that were to happen, and a fight ensued, not only would destroy her apartment, but it would blow his cover

But she seemed equally tense behind him. He couldn’t even sense her breathing.

“I doubt that Ino would take the time to shower if she came here looking for Sakura-chan,” the blonde said. The pair began to retreat from the bathroom, ready to gather clues elsewhere. 

They lingered in Sakura’s living room. Madara could see them snooping around through the belongings through the crack in the door.

“Look,” one of them said. “Someone was cooking something in here. The rice cooker is still hot.”

Sakura cursed under her breath again. So much for staying here. Madara turned to her and gave her a pleading look. He wasn’t going to put her under a genjutsu again, at least not right now. If they were going to be working together, there needed to be the barest amount of trust between them.

He put his finger to his lips, and Sakura nodded in understanding.

Then, to his immense pleasure, she allowed him to pick up her towel-covered body and lift her up onto his shoulder. She didn’t squirm, but he sensed her displeasure nonetheless in the rigid way she curled against him.

It was easy enough to slip through the bathroom door and back into her bedroom where her friends had foolishly left the window wide open. He started toward it but Sakura began to squirm, and of course he understood though he wished he’d been allowed to steal her away with no clothes and just let her be naked for the duration of their time together.

But she wiggled herself free from his grasp, and he let her gather a few things quickly into a pack and sling it over her bared shoulders before she was pointing toward the window and he was jerking on her arm and they were back out onto the night street.

She was still clothed in just her towel, which Madara found quite pleasant, but he couldn’t have the people on the street see her like this, or see her at all for that matter, so he resumed his genjutsu and let her take the lead.

He followed her through the streets, down dark alleyways and up through metal scaffolding onto the rooftops. From there, they quickly made their way to the village gates, which Madara hadn’t seen before having come from the cliffside.

He gazed in wonder at the high wall and the wrought iron gate that was currently swung open for any to enter or exit.

Then he felt Sakura’s tiny hand slip into his and she was tugging him, and they were back in the woods, running.

///

When they were a safe distance away, Sakura wrenched her pack off her shoulders and threw it angrily onto the ground.

“Fuck,” she yelled, crouching down, barely remembering to hold her towel in place as she rifled through her belongings.

“Were those friends of yours?” Madara asked as she pulled a pair of those tiny spandex shorts out of her pack and began to wriggle into them while she held up her towel.

He was irritated and curious about that single Sharingan, and he was going to demand answers from her the moment she was fully dressed. He didn’t imagine she’d be as forthcoming while naked, so he tapped his toe impatiently while she reached into her pack for a shirt. He supposed it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to watch her to struggle to dress herself with moderate privacy while he waited to hear her answer.

Of course instead of a shirt, what she pulled over her head and over her breasts, which, for one brief, wonderful moment were exposed to him, was only half a shirt – a black, sleeveless thing he imagined was meant to be worn as an undergarment.

Not to let himself get distracted, Madara looked away from her.

“Answer me, kunoichi,” he snapped. “Who were those people?”

“No Sunflower anymore?” she asked dryly. He turned to snap at her, but she was opening her mouth again.

“They were my teammates,” she explained, “and of course they’d break into my damn apartment to look for clues, even though I explicitly told them I was kidnapped outside the village.” She viciously shrugged her pack back onto her shoulders, and turned to face him.

Madara was taken aback by her loose tongue. “You told them?” he demanded, remembering the only moment when she had been alone in that cave. “How?”

Sakura looked up at him, and then quickly glanced away.

He took a threatening step toward her, his dark brows furrowed low. She inched away from him, but her gaze flitted back to him nervously. He could use his Sharingan and force her to confess it to him, and he considered doing that for a moment, but then it occurred to him that there could be another way to get her to tell him.

It was such a thrill to have her look in his eyes like that, all determined but afraid at the same time. Eventually she would begin to avoid his gaze much better than she did now, and he didn’t want that to happen, if only to keep using genjutsu on her as an option.

So instead he deactivated his Sharingan, letting his eyes bleed back into their natural near black color.

The reaction from Sakura was immediately. Her guard came up in an instant, confusion and suspicion sweeping across her features. Madara merely watched her, waiting to see whether she would answer him or defend her silence.

But curiosity got the better of her, and she stepped forward to look closer at his face. Madara was patient, allowing her to have the moment of exploration. Few people outside his close friends and family were privileged enough to see him without his Sharingan activated.

He tried not to react as her gaze softened so dramatically and so instantly that he feared she was thinking of that damn Sasuke again and it made anger bolt through his heart.

Tiny fingers were suddenly on his cheeks, and he pushed down the urge to shove them away immediately. It wasn’t until she tried to turn his face that he used one arm to fling both of hers away from him.

“Hey, you did it to me first,” she said, and something about that made him want to laugh.

He gave her a dry look, but didn’t back away as she brought her hands back to his face. She turned his face to the side and he rolled his eyes as she cocked her head, her brow knitting in a serious way as she tried to solve the puzzle that was his Sharingan-less eyes.

The instinct to reactivate his Sharingan was difficult to quash as she stared at him with a sudden longing, and the name Sasuke flitted through his mind again, but it was fleeting because he couldn’t bring his attention away from her face. Her hair and skin were still wet, and the cool light of nearing dawn caught on every drop, turning her into a glittering nymph. It cast a blue glow to her skin, and the moon reflected so brightly in her eyes, and she was looking at him with such kindness that it killed him that he couldn’t use his Sharingan to memorize the sight.

“You look so much better like this,” she breathed, and he should have felt insulted, but she sounded so sincere that he couldn’t bring himself to be offended.

“How did you communicate with your teammates?” he asked again, this time with a patient tone and a softer gaze, remembering Hashirama’s advice.

Sakura cast her eyes away from him guiltily. “I realize now that, umm, I probably shouldn’t have done that,” she said, scratching the back of her head nervously. “At the time I just wanted to get away from you.”

He raised a brow. “You don’t want that anymore?”

“I just think it’s probably for the best if you don’t meet Tsunade-sama,” she said. “I, well, not just… I think it’s— You don’t—”

“Spit it out, Sakura.”

Her eyes came back to his, and thanks to their coal black color she no longer seemed afraid as she looked him straight in the eye. There was trepidation there, but not of him. It pinched her delicate, pink brows close.

“I want to help you, Madara-san,” she said with confidence. “I know my master well, and I think we might have differing opinions about how to handle this situation.”

“And why should I trust you over the Hokage?” he asked with amusement.

She gave him a pointed look, and he smiled, but suppressed the laugh that burbled up in his chest.

“The Hokage is a Senju, and I’m not.”

Now he laughed. “You’ve got me there,” he said. “I take this to mean that you’ve thought about this situation and have thought about potential solutions?”

“Yes, I had a Plan A,” she said, “but feel free to come up with a Plan B if this one fails. I’m not all that confident we can get you back to your time, Madara-san.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but she seemed a lot less intimidated by them in their current state. “Tell me how you were able to communicate with your team,” he said, changing the subject back to the reason he’d deactivated his Sharingan in the first place.

“It was a summons,” she explained. “A slug summons. I can used her to communicate with my master, who also has a contract with her.”

Madara frowned, thinking of the ‘salve’ that had been left behind in the grass. What had happened between the time she had sent the message to now that had changed her mind?

He still didn’t trust her entirely, but she hadn’t taken the chance to get help from her teammates and she seemed to genuinely want to help him.

“You’ve got quite a few tricks up your sleeve, don’t you?” he asked pointedly. “Tell me about Plan A.”

She stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. He stared back, wishing that she were still naked so he could see the way the moonlight would reflect off that beautiful body of hers.

“There’s a missing-nin outside of Fire Country,” she explained. “He’s in Sound, and well, to be honest I bet you two have a lot in common. I think he might be able to give us some information about time travel. Or maybe his assistant might be able to.”

“How far from here?” he asked.

“A few days, maybe a week,” she said. “Depends on if we make good time.”

Madara allowed an expression of surprise to stay on his face for a moment. “You’d spend that long away from Konoha just to help me?”

At this she glared at him, and it was so randomly fierce that he almost took a step back away from her.

“It’s not for you,” she said. “I’ll be honest with you, Madara-san, I’m having a lot of trouble trying to figure you out. I don’t dislike you, but at the same time I know what you’re capable of. You being here is a threat to my village, so it’s not because I want to help you. It’s because I want to protect my village.”

Madara narrowed his eyes at her, but he sort of understood where she was coming from. He should really like to know what exactly he had done and what his reasons had been so that he could properly defend himself to her.

“Fair enough,” he said tersely, because he didn’t want to have this conversation right now. He had a feeling it would be more tragic than helpful. “If we’re going to be traveling that much, we’ll need to get some supplies.”

Sakura eyed him suspiciously, and even though she annoyed him greatly sometimes, he was pleased that he would get to take this journey with her. In spite of her grudge against him (or future him, he reminded himself), he was going to enjoy having her by his side for the coming week.

“Yes,” she agreed dryly. “I was planning to do that until we were interrupted.”

Madara crossed his arms chest. “So we’ll go back into the village and grab what we need,” he said. “Then we can be on our way.”

“Umm, I think it’s better if I go back alone,” she said. “I know that village like the back of my hand. I can get in and get out quickly, and I know exactly where to find all the supplies we need.”

He twisted his lips up as if he were considering this. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you unattended.”

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m not going to tolerate you spying on me naked anymore.”

“Oh, is that so?” he said, amusement tugging upward on the corners of his lips. “Well, I suppose we should set some ground rules, then.”

“Yes,” she agreed, and she crossed her arms, too, and for one very brief moment, Madara thought of his mother and the way she used to cross her arms just like that. Sakura’s hip was cocked to the side, and Madara became hypnotized by of a drop of water that clung to the tip of her hair. It dropped onto the skin of her stomach before seeping into those little black shorts.

“First rule,” she said. “I want privacy when appropriate. We should be able to trust each other well enough for that.”

“Sure,” he said, though he hoped she’d be willing to budge on that a little. “Any other rules, Sakura-sama?”

She demurred under his gaze, but she seemed to be wrestling with something internally. Madara watched her gather her courage, wishing that she would just spit it out already.

“I don’t want you to use genjutsu on me anymore,” she finally said.

Madara was sympathetic, but he still had to shake his head in disapproval. “I’m sorry, Sunflower, but I can’t agree to that,” he said. “But I’ll agree not to use it unless absolutely necessary.”

“But I bet we have different definitions of necessary,” she said dryly.

“I bet so,” he agreed.

She opened her mouth to argue, but Madara reactivated his Sharingan, relishing in the feel of that returning power, and the ability to finally capture the way Sakura looked to commit it to memory. He watched her horror as his eyes bled back into their bright red color, feeling a little dissatisfied with her fear of him.

“But you don’t have to worry that I’ll hurt you,” he said, extending a rare mercy to her. “You’re doing me a service for which I’m grateful, and I don’t hold the same grudge against you that I do your Senju master. You have my word that I won’t harm you, Sunflower.”

“Next rule,” she snapped, her voice suddenly angry, though he couldn’t possibly understand what about what he had said would upset her. “Stop calling me Sunflower.”

He smiled, though he didn’t mean for her to take it as personally as she did. Her face darkened, and for whatever reason he liked the vitriolic way she responded to his pet name for her. He supposed that because it came from the punishment he had inflicted on her, it wasn’t necessarily a sweet name, but Madara still felt sweet on her when he said it, and he wasn’t going to pretend like he would never call her that again.

“Okay,” he lied. “Anything else?”

“This might be a bit of a stretch,” she said, “but could you also promise not to harm any citizens of Konoha?”

He cocked his head to the side, a little perturbed by her request. She made it seem like he would come to harm a lot of them in the future, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that information.

“Of course,” he said, meaning it sincerely though it was subject to change should something happen.

Sakura seemed relieved by his immediate acquiescence, and he was glad he had chosen not to stipulate the promise. But the relief on her face was short lived as her eyes met his again, and there was worry there.

“Do you have any rules for me?” she asked, her voice mousy.

Madara blinked his surprise. He didn’t want anything from her, and he didn’t need her to follow any rule he could think of. He had only asked that she not go telling all the Senju about his presence here, but now that was a goal they had in common. At least for the time being.

“Not really,” he said.

“None at all?” she asked with confusion.

“You’re not my hostage, Sunflower,” he said and he was instantly amused to see the growing redness of her face. “I trust that you won’t make any more escape attempts, and since you seem to agree with me about keeping my presence a secret, there’s no reason to pose any cruel restrictions on you. I don’t blame you for not sharing that sentiment, though.”

She deflated, and he loved the red splotches that came across her cheeks and nose. She twisted her fingers together in a nervous habit, and he watched a little resolve form in her bright, verdant eyes.

“Madara-san,” she said, and it filled him with a little pride that she used an honorific with his name, though he wouldn’t ask her to if she didn’t. “If you don’t mind my asking, why do you want to get back to your time so badly? I mean I know there’s not much here for you because you don’t know anyone, but you were, like, fighting a war. Surely that’s an unpleasant thing to go back to.”

Madara didn’t like this line of conversation because it came far too close to Izuna. He hated to think of his little brother’s impending death, and how if he didn’t get back to his time he wouldn’t be able to prevent it.

But she was looking at him with a gaze that was genuinely curious, and even a little gentle. He was hard pressed to remember a time when someone had been so earnestly invested in what he had to say that he wished he actually had something poignant to say to her.

His hand reached up to her face, and she flinched but didn’t move away from him. It surprised him a little, the way the backs of his fingers swept across her cheek to push a wet tendril of pink hair out of her eyes. It was such a tender gesture, and Madara could hardly recall the last time he felt tender.

“The same reason you don’t want me here, Sakura,” he said. “You want to protect your people, and I want to protect mine.”

///


	8. Chapter 8

The moon must have been playing tricks on him, because as Madara scraped his knuckles across Sakura’s supple cheek, he could have sworn that she leaned into his touch. Her cheeks were boiling hot where he touched them, and red to show for it. Her eyes were dropped low, fixed on his neck. They were standing incredibly near one another, and if he listened hard enough he could hear the pulsing winged beat of her heart.

Her eyes came up slowly, not meeting his gaze but lingering instead on his mouth. It sent a jolt of electricity through his body, and it also made a smile tug at his lips.

Sakura noticed this, and her cheeks reddened even more.

“Sorry,” she said, taking a step back away from him, and he mused that if she had wanted to kiss him she wouldn’t have been able to. Even on her tiptoes she wouldn’t have been able to lean up and press a kiss to his lips at his height.

He heard her swallow thickly, and he suddenly wondered about this girl whose first kiss he had stolen, and what a lucky man for whom that kiss was being saved. Was it Sasuke? And if Sasuke was her Uchiha teammate, then it couldn’t have been a stretch for her to find him attractive, too.

He almost asked her about it, but she seemed too flustered and they had other business to take care of.

“I’ll wait here while you go back to the village for supplies,” he said to her, diffusing the tension that had thickened between them. “And if you can spare the room, maybe bring along a couple of those history books.”

Sakura nodded curtly, and she turned away from him, back toward the village. But then she froze and he let his eyes linger on her silhouette, watching as she shrugged out of her pack and tossed it to him.

He caught it with minute surprise.

“Hang onto to that for me until I get back,” she said, and then she disappeared into the woods.

Madara was suddenly suspicious that this may have been some sort of a trap. It was hard to see her go, to trust that she would come back. Without her, what would he do? Where would he go? The extent of his knowledge was that he needed to be looking for a man in Sound.

With a sigh, Madara looked down at the pack in his hands. Maybe this was her way of reassuring him that she would return.

Curious, he crouched down and opened the pack, interested to see what sundries she had packed in such a rush.

It was mostly medical supplies, he noticed with great boredom. There were a few other things: a hideous, tattered orange shirt, a half empty canteen, a couple of cloth ties for her hair. At the very bottom was a folded picture. Madara pulled it out of the pack and unfolded it, staring with curiosity.

Sakura was in it, grinning from ear to ear, her face pressed up against another girl’s face as they tightly hugged one another. The other girl looked to be a similar age, blonde, blue eyes. They were an attractive pair, he had to admit. He wondered what that blonde girl was like, if she was anything like Sakura.

His heart suddenly felt soft as he looked at the two of them, realizing that they were only here because of his actions. He scowled, not sure what exactly bothered him so much.

He began to place her things carefully back into her pack when he felt several chakra signatures converging on his location. Madara hefted the pack onto his shoulders and shot himself upward into the trees, casting a quick genjutsu over himself for cover.

As they neared him, Madara realized that it was some sort of patrol unit.

“We’ve been out here all night,” one of them said. “There’s no sign of Haruno-san anywhere.”

“Did you hear what Kakashi-san said? There were signs of forced entry in her apartment as recently as a few hours ago,” another said. “She’s got to be out here somewhere.”

“Godaime-sama said she’d been kidnapped outside the village, though.”

“She also thinks it’s the work of Orochimaru.”

“That’s not so ridiculous,” said the other. “He’s got the Uchiha boy. It only makes sense he’d want to keep him in good health, and Haruno-san is the best medic in the world.”

Madara felt a smile tug at his lips at that, but the mention of an Uchiha boy caught his attention.

“That’s what he’s got Kabuto for.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. We need to stay focused on our patrol.”

Footsteps began to recede, and Madara watched as a pair of shinobi made their way back out of the woods. He felt bad for Sakura, realizing that if she had indeed been kidnapped and was in any sort of trouble, she wouldn’t be able to rely on those morons to help her.

When they were out of sight and earshot, Madara leapt back down to the ground. He would make sure to ask Sakura for more details about that Uchiha boy when she returned.

///

It was a little over an hour later that Sakura finally returned. Madara’s impatience had slowly morphed to rage, and when he heard her approach with casually paced footsteps, he flitted quickly through the trees and landed deftly in front of her, catching her off guard.

“What the hell took you so long?” he demanded harshly, and he regretted it almost instantly as the contented smile on her face vanished.

But then she rolled her eyes, and heaved the much larger pack off her shoulders and set it down in the dirt.

“I’ll be on the road for two weeks,” she defended. “And you needed far more things than I did.”

She began to rifle through her pack, but Madara grabbed onto her arms and pulled her back up to her feet. “We don’t have time for that now,” he said. “There are patrols all over this place looking for you. We need to get moving.”

He reached down to close her pack and pick it back up for her when she stopped him with her tiny hands.

“Wait,” she said, and reached once more into the pack, pulling out a small paper sack. She opened it and pulled out two sticks of hanami dango, offering one to him as she bit into the other.

Madara stared at it with surprise and then confusion. “You stopped to get this?” he asked her, feeling a little annoyed.

“Yeah,” she said, reaching for her pack. “I got you some other things, too.” Madara snatched the pack before she could grab it and pulled it around his shoulders. The smaller one that she had left behind he passed back to her, and she tugged its weight effortlessly up onto her shoulders without complaint.

“What other things?”

She began to meander through the woods, north, by Madara’s calculations. He followed her, hoping she knew where she was going and what she was leading him into.

“Those history books, for one,” she said. “They take up a lot of room, so maybe you can just, like, memorize them with your Sharingan and then we can get rid of them.”

Madara said nothing to this as he stared at the stick of untouched dango in his hand.

“I also got you a couple changes of clothes,” she said. “I thought I might dip into the Uchiha compound and see what I could scrounge up for you, but that would’ve taken too long. I just grabbed a few standard issue garments. Hopefully they fit.”

“How generous of you,” he said suspiciously, wondering if he really had a grasp on her true motives. She treated him like an enemy sometimes, but this… This was more kindness than he had been shown in a long time, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about it.

He glanced sideways at her, watching the way she practically inhaled her stick of dango. He remembered that she hadn’t eaten in the entire day he had spent with her. She had been gracious enough to make food for him, and he had repaid her by walking in on her bathing.

“You seem… chipper,” he said to her, noting the new flush on her skin, the lack of anxiety on her. Running away with a missing-nin wasn’t just a casual day’s outing, so he was curious about her shift in mood.

She sobered up at his observation. “Well, the place we’re going… it’s kind of dangerous, but there’s someone there that I haven’t seen in a while,” she explained. “Someone that I miss a lot.”

“Sasuke?”

Her eyes flicked over to his. “How did you know?”

“He’s your other teammate,” Madara said, careful to keep his tone neutral. Sakura seemed dodgy where Sasuke was concerned and he didn’t want to dissuade her from talking about him. He needed all the information he could get. “I saw the picture by your bed.”

She wasn’t buying. “How did you know where he was?”

“One of the guys from the patrol mentioned a guy named Orochimaru,” Madara said. “He said that your Hokage thinks Orochimaru kidnapped you so you can care for the Uchiha boy.”

Sakura’s face paled, and Madara’s curiosity got the better of him. “What is an Uchiha doing outside Konoha?” he asked. “Did he defect from the village? Was he kidnapped by this Orochimaru guy?”

The dango in her hands nearly gone, Sakura dropped her arm to the side, apparently having lost her appetite. “I’m sorry, Madara-san, but there’s a lot you don’t know about… about recent events involving your clan. There was a…”

She trailed off, her gaze as far away from his as possible as they walked in tandem through the brush.

“A what?” he pressed.

Sakura’s eyes closed, and she kept them closed even as she walked. “A massacre,” she said. “All of the Uchiha were killed, except for one. Sasuke.”

Madara’s footsteps faltered. He must have heard her incorrectly. A massacre? So there was only one living Uchiha left in the world?

Sakura stopped beside him, and he could feel her gaze on him, but he didn’t want to look at her face.

“Who?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “Was it a Senju?”

“Oh, no,” she said, and now he did turn to look at her. There was no expression on her face at all, but her body was tense and he wondered what thoughts were going through her mind. “There’s only one Senju left, too, you know. My master. Apparently you Uchihas breed like rabbits. That’s probably a good thing, since Sasuke is still alive to restore his clan.”

Madara’s gaze swept harshly over Sakura then, and the intense look he gave her must have frightened her because she took a step back. Sakura had clear romantic feelings for that single living Uchiha, and Madara couldn’t help but wonder about her, whether she was capable of being an Uchiha and restoring such a powerful clan to its former glory.

He would have to meet this Sasuke character to know if that were even possible. Why had he not been killed in the massacre, too?

“Sasuke…” Sakura began, “he did not handle it well. He was very young when it happened, and it was his older brother who… who killed them. Sasuke was very close with Itachi.”

“So he was spared,” Madara murmured to himself, thinking of Izuna. “Why would Itachi do this?” he asked Sakura, feeling a rather strange sense of calmness in spite of this infuriating news.

At this, Sakura straightened her shoulders, and he liked to see her puffing herself up with bravado for his sake.

“According to the village council, Itachi snapped,” she said. “I didn’t know Itachi well, but Sasuke was always talking about him. He was well liked by everyone. He was a prodigy, next in line to be clan head. It was a shock to everyone.”

Madara stared into Sakura’s eyes, trying to ground himself in their greenness. He could feel his head begin to flood with darkness, painfully prickling as if circulation had been cut off. His teeth began to ache, and he could feel his pulse pounding against his temples and behind his eyes.

His head swam as he looked at her. Why would Itachi kill his own family?

“What do you know about the Curse of Hatred?”

He couldn’t speak as he looked at her, not sure he liked where this was heading.

“One of the perks of being the Hokage’s apprentice is that I have access to all the previous Hokages’ files as well,” Sakura said, and something about her casual tone seemed to cut through all the pounding in his head. “Tobirama—”

“Tobirama becomes Hokage?” Madara demanded harshly. “How many Hokages have their been?”

A beat of silence stretched between them. “Five.”

Madara shook his head in disbelief, pressing his palms to his eyes. This couldn’t be the future. His clan gone, slaughtered by one of their own? The Senju taking control over the village? How could this have happened?

“Tobirama-sama had a lot of notes about the Curse of Hatred,” Sakura continued, though her voice was cautious. “He, umm, really didn’t like your clan, so I’m not sure how much I trust his information, but Sasuke is my friend and I thought I might have been able to help him. I went through Tobirama-sama’s notes looking to see about how to break the curse.”

His hand lashed out and captured her arm in a tight grip. “What did you find?”

Sakura’s eyes suddenly blazed fiercely, and he was shocked to see her stand up to him in such a way when he knew the tomoe of his Sharingan spun dangerously as his eyes narrowed on her.

“Nidaime-sama believed it was your innate hatred, and could never be cured,” she said, and to his surprise she sounded angry. “He also believed your entire clan was just a bunch of angry, hateful people, but I know that not to be the case. I suspect that Itachi’s killing spree might have had something to do with the Curse of Hatred, and I believe that Sasuke is in danger of succumbing to that as well. That’s why I—”

Madara clapped a hand over her mouth, and he felt her gasp sharply. “I need you to be quiet for a second,” he said, his voice a low whisper.

Something in Madara’s head was pounding harder now, something that was near his spine, something that pulsed pain outward through his entire body. He was so angry, so embittered by this miserable future, but he forced himself not to grit his teeth.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, using the feel of Sakura’s mouth under his hand to calm himself. He felt a sudden compulsion to crush her skull in his hand. The thought horrified him, but he couldn’t let go of her.

She had gone slack under him, and he opened his eyes to see her brilliantly green ones staring at him with concern. One of her hands was suddenly on his chest, and he felt the invasion of her chakra, like a jolt of lighting through every vein and nerve in his body. It didn’t hurt, but it was there, and he pushed her hand away.

Both her hands came up to his head, her arms stretched high above hers as she reached. He grabbed her arms, intent on wresting them away from his head when he felt her cooling, soothing chakra seep into his head. The pressure behind his eyes melted away. His hands slackened around her wrists, but held on. Her airy, cool chakra dissipated the thick darkness that was stretching across his skull, flowing into every crevice.

Madara groaned in relief. His hands slid from her wrists to her hands, holding them against his head. They were so delicate and cold beneath his, so he pressed them harder against his aching skull. The action pulled Sakura’s body flush against his. He heard her gasp, so he let go of her.

But she didn’t move.

He opened his eyes to find her face below his, turned upward to see him. He could see the reflection of the trees behind him in her eyes.

“Do you get headaches like that often?” she asked softly.

He pulled her hands down and pushed them back into her chest. His eyes got stuck on them for a moment, those little relief conveyors. He wondered just how many things she could do with those tiny hands.

Then he glanced up at her face, and she was staring at him with clinical curiosity. Abruptly, he shoved her a step backwards.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said, eyes flashing.

“I was trying to help you,” she snapped.

He inhaled a shaking breath, and his lungs felt too small to suck in the proper amount of air. “I don’t want your help.”

“Then what the fuck am I doing here?”

Madara closed his eyes again, taking a beat to gather his thoughts. It was hard to think properly. She could have done anything to him while she was in his head. Her chakra had been everywhere. He had no idea what she was capable of, and he had just let her invade his brain.

Could she have read his mind or thoughts? Had she been looking for information about the curse?

He opened his eyes to glare at her, but his gaze softened on her immediately. She was glaring at him, too, tapping her toe with a sassy sort of impatience.

Madara felt his eyes narrowing, and it pulled the darkness back up to the back of his head. “You’re doing this for Konoha,” he said, his voice quiet but dangerous. She was also clearly doing it for Sasuke, but he didn’t think he could say that to her. “Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Sakura glanced down at the ground, at the stick of dango that Madara hadn’t realized he had dropped into the grass. Her eyes lingered there for a long time.

“I won’t use genjutsu on you,” he offered, not sure where the thought had exploded up from. “If you don’t do… that again, I promise I won’t use genjutsu on you again.”

Her eyes looked up to his, and he felt a flash of anger when he saw pity there. But the mere act of glaring seemed to pull that dark cloud back up to his head, and if Sakura was never going to clear it out again, he needed to preserve this feeling.

So he deactivated his Sharingan to punctuate the offer.

“Fine,” she said tersely. “I won’t do it again.”

She turned back to the path and kept walking, her arms crossing and shoulders curled in.

Madara fell into step behind her.

///

The morning rolled by quickly. The air was humid and warm, and it made the two of them groggy as they marched alongside of one another. It seemed to make Sakura grouchy as well. He could see the sour look on her face, and the angry way she kept pushing her sweaty bangs out of her eyes. It also amused him that he could hear her stomach growling so often, and see the resulting red stain on her cheeks each time.

Madara, however, felt himself melting and muggy, and more calm than he was wont to feel. He sniffed the air, wondering if there was something out there. Something in the air felt amiss, though he couldn’t say what it was.

He glanced up at the sky, shielding his eyes with his hands against the sun’s brightness. A pale round moon was hung there, glinting like a silver coin. He blinked, because shouldn’t the moon be a crescent moon now? But then when he opened his eyes, the moon was a crescent, just as it should be.

“What’s the hold up?”

He turned. Sakura was standing with an impatiently cocked hip, her pretty face contorted dryly.

“I’m hungry,” he said, willing to overlook her rudeness on account of how adorable he found it. 

“Well maybe you wouldn’t be if you hadn’t dropped the dango I gave you.”

Madara’s lips twitched with amusement. “You’re right,” he conceded. “Let’s just keep going.”

Sakura’s face scrunched up further, and he wondered whether he was the sole source of her frustration, or if something else was bothering her.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the crescent moon that hung innocently in the sky, as if it had been that way the whole time.

Sakura noticed this, and gave a curious glance to the moon and then back to him. “You’re not trying to chart out my menstrual cycle, are you?”

Thoroughly startled, Madara gave her a bewildered look. “What?”

“Nevermind.”

She turned and began to walk, her pace a little quicker. Madara jogged to catch up with her, and then fell silently into step. He observed Sakura’s face, trying to catch a glimpse of what she might have been thinking.

“Do you want me to catch you something to eat?” he asked her, remembering that she had cooked for him, so it was the least he could do in return.

“Catch me,” she murmured with bewilderment, “something to eat?”

He waited expectantly for her stupidity to pass.

“I’ve got dried fruit, protein bars, and food pills in my bag,” she said, shaking her head dismissively. “That really won’t be necessary.”

Madara scowled, annoyed with her. “Why haven’t you eaten anything then?” he demanded. “Are you just going to let your stomach growl all day?”

She scowled back at him, and Madara wasn’t sure how far he was willing to extent his patience for this girl. In lieu of an answer, she continued to walk away from him. Madara glared angrily at the back of her head. He had been trying to be nice to her, so what the hell was her problem?

But until her mood had improved, he would rather not speak to her. He just fell silently into step behind her.

///

By late that afternoon, Sakura’s exhaustion had become obvious. She made a visible effort to maintain their quick pace, but he could see the lag in her steps, and the ache that was clear in her muscles by her strained movement.

She no longer wore a scowl on her face, just as droopy, tired expression.

Ready for a break himself, Madara suggested they stop for a moment. Sakura was quick to agree, immediately ambling toward the closest tree trunk and sliding against it until she was on the ground.

Shaking his head at her pitiful stamina, Madara found a nearby tree and sat down across from her. Her eyes were closed, but he could see she was still awake and on alert. Her breaths were slow and unlabored, but there was a flush on her skin from the day’s activity.

Allowing her the moment of rest, Madara reached for the pack Sakura had brought him. If he was going to figure this whole time travel thing out, he needed to start with catching up on his history.

So he pulled the stack of history textbooks out and began to peruse them languidly, listening to Sakura’s breaths and the rustling leaves and chirping birds.

The pages of the textbook were glossy and slick – a far cry from the dry, crumbling parchment paper he was used to. He had to angle the pages away from the sun to prevent the glare, but it didn’t slow him down as he quickly scanned the introductory chapter.

Madara was immediately displeased to see the Senju bias in the book’s contents. He glanced up at Sakura, wondering what she thought of him if all that she knew about him came from these books.

He read over the story of the village’s founding, and it compared honestly to Sakura’s version. It painted him as a power hungry, bloodthirsty savage with little to no control over his anger.

Sakura’s words echoed in his head. Maybe Itachi’s killing spree had something to do with the curse. Maybe Madara’s rage had something to do with the curse. He thought he had a good enough grip on his emotions. Yes, he had a lot of anger inside him, but he was in the middle of war. He was supposed to be angry.

When he flipped to the pages about his final battle with Hashirama, he was shocked to see two stone statues – one of him and Hashirama to mark their final battle. He ran the pad of his finger over the image, his finger sticking to the glossy page.

“We’re going to pass it,” Sakura said.

He glanced up at her. She was looking down at the book in his lap, staring at the open page. Her eyes slowly came up to his face. She looked a little less tired now.

“The Valley of the End,” she said. “We’ll be there by nightfall, probably. It would be a nice place to set up camp for the night.”

Madara frowned, not sure he wanted to sleep where he had been slain.

“Unless you don’t want to, of course,” she said quickly, seeing the look on his face.

He shook his head in lieu of an answer. He shut the book and shoved it back into the pack. “Let’s just keep moving,” he said. And so she stood up and they made their way back to the road.

///

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve got just a couple things I’d like some feedback on, if you guys can spare the time for it:
> 
> 1\. Chapter length. I’ve seen a few of you mention that you think the chapters are too short. For whatever reason, this is a perfectly manageable length for me, and I’m able to get the content to you regularly this way. If you guys would prefer that I wait until I can get the chapters longer, I can do that. It all comes down to whether you’d prefer longer chapters or regular, weekly updates.
> 
> 2\. What other characters would you guys like to see prominently in this story? Sasuke is going to be pretty major, but who else are you guys dying to see?
> 
>  
> 
> And, of course I always welcome whatever criticisms you guys might have so far. I know this chapter is a little boring, so I’ll give y’all another tomorrow (I feel guilty, I know you guys are here for the smut), but I’d really love to hear how you guys think this story could be improved.


	9. Chapter 9

Madara couldn’t get his mind off the words in the history textbook. The future looked bleak for his clan, and each word of the textbook had infuriated him more and more.

It made sense that a Senju run village would produce garbage like in Sakura’s book. Tobirama could have written it himself judging by the obvious hatred for the Uchiha clan hidden in the text. It made Madara wonder what Sakura and the rest of the villagers thought of the Uchihas, whether or not they were susceptible to this drivel.

“Sakura,” Madara said, and her gaze immediately flicked to his. They had been walking in silence for most of the day, and by now the sun was beginning to set – the sky warm and orange. “You mentioned earlier that you had reason to believe Tobirama was wrong about the Uchiha clan.”

Sakura’s gaze was cautious where it lingered on him. “Nidaime-sama’s—”

“Don’t call him that,” Madara snapped. “Use his fucking name.”

Sakura’s gazed cooled on him, but she amended her sentence anyway. “Tobirama formed his opinions on confirmation bias,” she said, her voice neutral, if a little terse. “He was prejudiced in his observations of your clan, and he didn’t have access to the same medicine and science we have today.”

“I see,” Madara said, drawing his gaze away from her heated one. He hated the tenseness that had come between them, though he wasn’t sure what he could do about it now. There was something unnerving about being at odds with her, and he thought back to the dango he had carelessly dropped into the grass.

“The science and pedagogy of kekkei genkai is still quite new,” she continued as they kept walking, though now a little slower. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that the Sharingan is one of the most powerful doujutsu in the world, and Konoha was quite fortunate to have the Uchiha clan in its ranks. Not only was it handy during the great shinobi wars, but it gave me and Tsunade-sama a chance to do some medical research.”

Madara narrowed his eyes, thinking of that Senju woman studying his clan’s most powerful tool. His gaze slid back to Sakura. How much did she really know about his clan and their Sharingan?

“Unfortunately, by the time I came into Tsunade-sama’s service, the Uchiha clan was down to just Sasuke, who defected,” she said. “I was still able to research the Byakugan in person, but my knowledge of the Sharingan was reliant upon what had been researched before by Tobirama. Perhaps I shouldn’t be admitting this to you, but I also tried to dig up what information I could from the abandoned Uchiha compound.”

Now he was curious indeed. “What did you find?” he asked.

“Not that much,” she said with a shrug. “I found a bit about the Curse of Hatred, but I got conflicting information. Tobirama implied that the curse was innate amongst all Uchihas, but research from your own clan showed that only those who had awakened their Sharingan were afflicted. It was worse with those who had awakened Mangekyou.”

The sky was a dusky mauve color now, and they came through the trees and out into the open air. Madara could hear water flowing nearby, loud and gushing.

Sakura fell silent, and her face seemed unnaturally pale now as if she were afraid. Madara was still curious, though. “You think the curse is related directly to the Sharingan itself?” he asked.

She hesitated for a moment and then she nodded. “I don’t think it’s a matter of genetic personality, but rather a differentiation in your brains. I’ve never had a chance to study an Uchiha’s Sharingan before, but in studying my sensei’s transplant—”

Madara instinctively reached out to grab her, surprised that he had forgotten all about that mysterious single Sharingan he had seen in her teammates socket.

“That was your teacher,” he said accusingly. “Why does he have a Sharingan eye? Who did he steal it from?”

“He didn’t steal it,” she snapped. “It was his teammate’s eye. I don’t know the full story. Kakashi-sensei is really secretive about it. I just know that his teammate died and gave Kakashi his eye so that he could protect their other teammate with it.”

She pulled her arm out of his grasp. The glow of dusk warmed her skin, but there was something cold in her eyes.

“As I was saying,” she said with a huff, “I think there’s a mental component to the curse that we’ve been overlooking. Something to do with the brain and the nerves connecting it to the eye. There are parts of the brain that are stimulated by rage, and the fact that the Sharingan only awakens during times of emotional distress indicates to me that perhaps there is a way around the painful process of awakening it.”

Madara froze. “What are you talking about?”

“I think the Sharingan can be manually activated by forcing that part of the brain to light up,” she said. “It’s just conjecture, of course. There are no Uchihas left for me to study.”

Sakura stopped, too, and glanced back toward him with confusion.

“That’s why you were poking around in my head,” he said accusingly. “Hell, that’s why you agreed to help me at all. You just want to study me like I’m some kind of science project.”

A wave of anger crashed over her face, hardening her features with frightening immediacy. “You read the history books,” she said angrily. “You know what happens to you. Are you telling me that if we get you back to your own time, that you won’t take any of this to heart? You won’t try to change your actions, make things better for you and your clan?”

“Are you saying what happens is my own fault?” he demanded.

“I’m saying you have a chance to prevent it,” she said. “Maybe. I did get inside your head, you know. I saw all that pain and darkness in your head. That’s your curse. All that rage you feel is… is… unnatural.”

Now Madara understood. Sakura said her master had a difference in opinion about how to handle this situation. Presuming that the Senju’s bias didn’t run through her, too, it made sense that they would have differing opinions regarding the Uchihas and their curse of hatred.

“How lucky were you to stumble upon an Uchiha, then?” he asked dryly. “I suppose you think I fell out the sky just for you to poke and prod.”

“Maybe you did,” she suggested. “Maybe I can fix you before I send you back. Then you can have the future you wanted instead of this one.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” he snapped.

She gave him a dry look. “Well, that’s not what it seems like to me.”

Angry, Madara glared down at her, and he could feel that dark cloud swirling around in his head. “What makes you think you aren’t susceptible to the Senju bias?” he asked. “You want to fix the Uchiha clan, do you? You think there’s something wrong with us? Something your feeble little no-name brain can manage? Well, let me make something perfectly clear, Sunflower. You can’t save your precious Sasuke by trying to change him.”

Sakura looked angry, too, but he rather enjoyed the flush it brought to her skin.

“I’m not going to be a practice dummy for you so you can figure out Sasuke’s affliction,” he said. “You’re going to take me to this man in Sound, and that’s the extent of your help that I need. You can keep any opinions you have about my clan and my curse in that pretty little head of yours.”

She crossed her arms, and he was surprised to see that she was actually pouting. A full blown, pursed lip pout, with a petulant, churlish glare included. If the subject matter hadn’t left him so angry, he might have been amused by it.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said pointedly.

“I’ll look at you however I want,” she said, but it was muttered so low under her breath that Madara might have only imagined she said it.

Her true motives were a little more clear to him now. There was no altruistic reason why she wanted to send him back home, if that was something she even cared about doing at all. She wanted to prevent her teammate from suffering the same fate that Madara himself would suffer from – succumbing to the curse.

They resumed their pace in tepid silence, but Madara’s thoughts continued to whorl in his head. She didn’t hate the Uchiha like a Senju might, but that was only because her teammate was the sole Uchiha in existence.

He supposed that her wanting to help Sasuke wasn’t a bad thing by any means. If Sasuke never overcame the curse, then he’d suffer and die from it, leaving the clan with no chance of revival.

Sakura seemed to be the Uchiha clan’s last hope, if that were truly the case, which Madara sorely did not want to admit. If she couldn’t draw Sasuke back from the brink of it, then this would be the end.

But Madara couldn’t trust her yet – certainly not with his brain like she seemed so adamant to study, no matter how nice it felt to have her cooling chakra push back that dark, painful cloud. He needed to take this slow, to figure out whether he could change the future at all. Perhaps, if he went back to his own time, he could prevent Izuna’s death and the Senju from taking control of the village.

Maybe he could take a wife and have children. He could continue his bloodline so that the Uchiha clan truly would be the most fearsome version of itself it could be.

It all depended on what this mysterious man in Sound had to say.

///

By the time the two of them had reached the valley, the tenseness between them seemed to have dissipated.

Madara was grateful for this, because as they entered the valley, his jaw nearly dropped.

The sheer size the monuments dedicated to him and Hashirama took his breath away. They loomed so high overhead that they dwarfed everything but the sky, which was now a pale purple, quickly bleeding inky blue. He stared in wonder at his own likeness, taking note of the damage that had somehow been done to it. Pieces of his chest and arm had crumbled away, and Hashirama bore a small crater in his chest.

A large waterfall poured down between them, and it occurred to Madara that he knew exactly where this was back in his own time, and no valley existed here.

Overhead, stars were beginning to glimmer through the purplish pink sky, and the crescent moon was so bright it almost hurt to look at.

“I thought we could make camp over here by the water,” Sakura said.

Madara, having forgotten she was there, turned to look where she was pointing. There was a patch of grass near the riverbank, and close by was the quick cover of forest brush. He glanced back to her face.

“I brought a tent for us to use,” she said, accepting his silence in the affirmative. She marched over to her decided camping spot and began to rifle through her pack.

“Just one?” he asked with a raised brow.

Sakura dropped her pack, and she was flushed pink when she came over to him and began to search through his pack while it was still on his back. “It’s plenty big enough for the both of us,” she said.

They quickly set up camp in companionable silence. Sakura pitched her strange looking tent while Madara placed a few protection seals around them. Sakura then found a thick pine tree close the wood’s edge and plucked it from the ground as if it were a carrot.

Madara watched with amusement as she held the trunk aloft, roots crumbling from the bottom, and began to smash it into smaller pieces. She piled them up neatly a few feet in front of the tent, and then turned to him expectantly.

He felt his lips twitch. “Something you need?” he asked, trying not to grin.

“Umm, fire, please?”

“You aren’t cold, are you?”

She blinked her eyes at him as if he was the audacious one for not submitting to her demand. “No, but I’m hungry, and I’d like to cook myself something to eat over the fire,” she seethed. “But fine. I know how to make a damn fire myself. I don’t know why I would have expected you to—”

Madara interrupted her with a short burst of flame. The chunks of her pine tree were set ablaze instantly, and she took a step backwards, squinting in the intense, smoky heat.

“We Uchihas are nothing but tools for you, aren’t we?” he teased. “I presume that this Sasuke of yours lights all your fires?”

Her cheeks bloomed with scarlet, set ablaze just as quickly as her pine. She looked away from him, and he couldn’t help but laugh. He watched as the scarlet rose up to the tips of her ears. She began to ferociously dig through her pack until she had found a shallow cooking pot. She ambled down to the riverbank, stomping her feet like a child.

Madara wondered what Sasuke thought of her. He had left her behind when he defected from Konoha. Did he miss her as much as she missed him?

Sakura’s pace was less pronounced as she came back to the fire, carrying a potful of water. She nestled it between the chunks of wood and then crossed her legs beneath her and stared into the fire.

Madara sat down next to her, close enough that it probably made her a little uncomfortable, but not touching her. He couldn’t trust this girl at all, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still have her uses.

“Could you tell me a little about Sasuke?”

She flicked him a dry glare, and he remembered that Sasuke was a bit of a sore subject for her. He’d had enough of her silence on the subject, however, and he was not above employing certain tactics for getting her to talk.

He deactivated his Sharingan – a gesture she seemed to appreciate immediately. She nearly sagged with relief, though Madara was a little annoyed by that. He had promised not to use genjutsu on her, and he wished she believed that, even if it maybe wasn’t all that true.

“I’m curious,” Madara implored, watching her gaze soften on him. “He’s the last living Uchiha, isn’t it? He’s the last of my flesh and blood. He was your teammate so you must know at least a little bit about him.”

Sakura looked back to her pot in the fire. It hadn’t even begun to simmer yet.

“Sasuke has always been pretty reserved and quiet,” Sakura said softly. She curled her legs up in toward her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “There’s always been an air of mystery about him. It’s hard to know what he’s thinking sometimes.”

Madara listened, watching the first few bubbles boil up in the pot.

“When he was younger, he was always really determined to be a great shinobi, just like his older brother,” Sakura continued. She had a quiet sort of contentedness about her as she spoke, picking at the blades of grass beside her. “He sought his father’s approval, I think. Uchiha-sama could be pretty harsh, from what I’ve been told. I wouldn’t know. I never met him.”

Her gaze flicked up to his, and Madara found that he liked the way she looked at him better without his Sharingan – like he was someone to be admired. Her gazes were softer, even when they roved lower than his face, and he wondered if she was comparing him to Sasuke now.

“The Uchihas have a bit of a reputation for being cold and severe,” she said, her voice impossibly gentle in such stark contrast to her sass from before. “Have they always been that way?”

“Yeah,” Madara said with a chuckle, thinking of his father and the other elders of his clan. Cold and severe didn’t even begin to describe them.

“You don’t seem so cold.”

At this Madara gave her a perplexed look.

“You’re intimidating and a little mean,” she said, seeing the look on his face, “but you’re not cold. I mean you call me Sunflower.”

“I’ve been spending too much time with Hashirama,” he muttered under his breath, though he was secretly grateful for this, as at least it was the charm and warmth of his friend that had rubbed off on him and none of his worst traits.

“What was Shodaime-sama like?”

Madara’s narrowed gaze settled on her, and he wished she would stop referring to the Senju that way, but she looked content still and he didn’t want to take that away from her just yet. Her eyes were so wide that he could see the sky and stars reflected in them, and it seemed to Madara that fate was cruel to have put him here with this distractingly beautiful girl that he could not trust.

What was Hashirama like? How could he begin to answer that?

“He’s a friendly guy,” Madara said, and he leaned back into the grass, propping himself up on his elbows. “Very personable and charming when he wanted to be. He could also be pretty crass at times.”

Sakura’s smile seemed to suck brightness from the sky. “That’s hard to imagine. He seems like such a respectable man.”

“We used to piss off the side of the cliff and race it down to the bottom.”

Madara laughed at the look of disgust she shot him, and his grin stayed as he watched her process that information about the esteemed first Hokage.

Her gaze drifted up to statue of Hashirama, her neck craned back. He noticed the comfort and pride that washed over her features as she stared at Hashirama’s face. Madara could only hope to instill that level of warmth in people. Maybe not so much with Sakura, but Madara was very much a cold person. Hashirama had a real gift, and in the safety of the future, where Hashirama was dead, Madara wasn’t afraid to admit that he was jealous of it.

Sakura’s gaze crossed the river, over to Madara’s statue. Madara watched her with rapt attention, noticing that she seemed to be absorbed deeply in thought. Why did her brow crinkle like that she stared at his stone face? Why did she suck her lower lip into her mouth and bite it like that?

“They did a good job on these monuments, didn’t they?” she asked, breaking the calm silence that had settled around them.

Madara would have glanced up toward his statue again, but Sakura’s gaze had fallen back on him and he didn’t want to lose it just yet. There was a half smile on her face that lingered, and he would have given anything to know what she had been thinking.

“My friend Ino and I had a disagreement once about you,” she said, and there was a bit of mischief in her eyes. “She didn’t think these statues were accurate because it was just impossible for people to be so good-looking. She was convinced that they were embellished to make you guys look better.”

As if magnetically drawn, his lips began to curl upward. “You disagreed?”

“I can’t speak for Hashirama,” she said with a shrug, “but at the time I disagreed by using Sasuke as an example. Neither of us could deny his handsomeness, and you were of the same clan. She said he’s not that handsome, but I think she was just in denial because she knew she didn’t have a chance with him.”

Madara allowed silence to follow her words. It felt strange to be someone she knew from her childhood, a figure from her history books. She had known his name and achievements for years, and he knew next to nothing about her.

“Madara?” His ears perked up at the sound of his name on her tongue, low and curious and cautious – without the honorifics.

“Yes?”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why did you never marry?”

His first instinct was to glare at her, but there was something about the earnest way she was looking at him that softened him.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to put you on the spot,” she said, her cheeks red again. “I just was curious. I mean you’re so handsome and you seem like you’re probably even charming sometimes. And since you’re an Uchiha – and the clan head at that—”

“I’m only twenty,” he reminded her patiently, “and I’m in the midst of war. I haven’t thought about it yet.”

“Oh.”

It amused him that she seemed embarrassed by her own line of questioning, and he watched as her gaze dropped down to the grass she was fiddling with at her side.

“What about you?” he asked, flipping the script on her for the sake of fairness. “I gathered by the way you lovingly embraced me while saying Sasuke’s name that you must have some sort of romantic interest in him.”

Sakura’s expression dropped – not into anger, but the kind of dejectedness that made Madara feel his own heart seem to stretch until it snapped. 

Feeling a little smidge of compassion for her, Madara sighed. “Perhaps you’re too young to have thought of all this, but being the Uchiha matriarch is a big responsibility,” he said. “There would be a lot of expectations on you. Of course you have a lot of desirable attributes. You seem to be a competent kunoichi, and I’ve been told that you’re the best medic in the world. Not to mention your keen interest in studying doujutsu, and that damn near perfect chakra control of yours. All things a clan head might look for in a bride. You’re stunning, too. I’d hope any future Uchiha children you bear resemble you more closely than their father.”

She seemed startled by his words, and Madara was a little startled himself at his own frankness, but he couldn’t regret saying it.

Her cheeks were brilliantly red, and he mused that they would become stuck that way, which suited him just fine. There was something endearing about her flushed cheeks.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said dismissively, resting her chin on her knees. “Sasuke isn’t interested in me at all.”

Madara thought about this as the pot in the fire came to a low, simmering boil. A bit begrudgingly, Sakura unfolded her legs so she could stretch back behind her to reach for her pack. She pulled a packet of rice out of it and dumped it into the pot.

He supposed Sasuke had a lot of other things on his mind, but the restoration of his clan had to be one of them, right? If he had to find a new matriarch to bear his future children, then why look any further than the beautiful kunoichi who was his teammate, who also very clearly had romantic affections for him?

Something in Madara’s mind was telling him that Sasuke would come to her in time. If he was young, then it made sense for him not to have thought about those things yet. When he finally did, Sakura would be the first girl who came to mind.

“Why did Sasuke defect from Konoha?” he asked. Both of them watched the steaming pot of rice.

Sakura sighed. “His brother Itachi is still out there somewhere,” she said softly, and her gaze was intense when he slipped back in his direction. “Sasuke wants to get strong enough to defeat him so that he can avenge his family.”

“Itachi is alive?” Madara asked. So there were, in fact, two living Uchiha.

“After the massacre, he left Konoha and joined this terrorist organization called Akatsuki,” she replied.

Madara felt a shiver roll down his spine, though he didn’t know why. He looked back up at the statue of Hashirama, feeling something unsettling in the pit of his stomach.

“Anyway, Sasuke left the village in search of more power,” she continued. “He didn’t feel strong enough to take on Itachi. I begged him to stay, and he refused. I begged him to take me with him, but he wouldn’t even consider it.”

She reached for the pot, and he saw even without his Sharingan that she picked up the hot pot’s handle using chakra as a barrier between it and her skin. She doled out a serving for him in a bowl she fished out of her pack, and then another for herself.

“Our other teammate Naruto tried to stop him,” she said. “He chased Sasuke all the way here, and they fought. That’s what all that damage is from,” she said, gesturing toward the monuments.

Madara looked back up at the crumbling arm and cratered torso.

“Revenge was always the most important thing to Sasuke,” she continued. “I really do hope it gives him the peace he’s after.”

Madara hadn’t met Sasuke yet, but sympathizing with his situation, he hoped for that, too.

///


	10. Chapter 10

Darkness had fallen quite quickly, even though the stars still sparkled brightly overhead. After enjoying their humble meals, Sakura and Madara retired into their single tent, which Madara was surprised to note was actually plenty big enough for the both of them.

It would have been comfortable enough to fit probably six people inside, so Sakura had pushed her bedroll up against one side of the tent, and Madara had begrudgingly unrolled his on the other.

The idea of sleeping near someone so unguardedly nauseated him. He wasn’t sure he could trust her, and closing his eyes, falling asleep while she was a mere few feet away… Well, it wasn’t something Madara was looking forward to.

Of course he couldn’t just not sleep for the duration of their time together, which meant he would have to become accustomed to sleeping in her presence. Luckily, she seemed to have no problem at all with sleeping near him. She was asleep the moment she laid her head down.

She looked angelic when she slept. Madara had reactivated his Sharingan since there was no reason it should bother her now, and he watched her like a hawk, unsure of what else there was to do while he waited for sleep.

He was mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her full lips were pulled into a serious pout. He felt a grin tug at his lips, thinking of her opinions on his statue. He was sure that if he saw a stone statue of her, he couldn’t be sure whether she was real or some perfect goddess dreamt up by the sculptor. Stunning didn’t even begin to capture her.

Madara tried to shake that thought from his head. While he’d been attracted to plenty of women before, he’d never really been in this kind of position with any of them. Sakura had thought of him as warm, which was an adjective he never thought would be used to describe him, but he supposed it was true. There was some warmth in the way he treated her because he perceived her more warmly than if she had been, well, ugly.

Perhaps she would be dead right now if he hadn’t found a soft spot for that pretty little face of hers.

Trying to content himself into sleep, Madara inhaled a deep breath. The copper tang of blood filled the air, and accompanying it was something muskier. On alert, Madara sat up, his eyes scanning through the darkness. He couldn’t sense anyone but him and Sakura nearby, and a cursory glance at her showed that she was not injured in any way that he could see.

Curious, he scooted a little closer to her and sniffed. It was definitely coming from her.

Gently, in case she was hurt, Madara prodded at her shoulder.

“Sakura,” he whispered, and her eyes were immediately open, startlingly beautiful in the close intimacy of the dark tent. They narrowed on him as she pulled her bedroll up tighter to her chest.

“What?”

“Are you hurt?” he asked, trying to sound less concerned and more curious, though he wasn’t sure how he actually felt. “I smell blood all over you.”

She sprang up like a tightly wound coil, and it was only by the grace of Madara’s killer shinobi instincts that her head did not collide with his.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, flinging the bedroll off her legs to reveal a rather large puddle of blood between her legs.

Alarmed, Madara looked up at her face. He wasn’t sure exactly what he saw there. Her cheeks were red, but it looked like guilt or shame, and he couldn’t think of why she would feel guilty or ashamed.

“Is this… did you have—”

“Fuck!”

“Your menstrual cycle,” Madara finally realized. “This explains why you were grouchy all day.”

A tiny, open hand lashed toward him. He fought his instinct to catch her arm. He could see that there was no chakra in it, and if it made her feel better about this situation then he would allow it.

It reverberated through him, not quite the same sensation as pain, but something close to it. She dropped her hand to her side, and looked down at her bloody lap. His sympathy waned as he realized she had no remorse for striking him, though he had done nothing wrong.

Madara sharply smacked her on the back of her head.

Sakura froze, and for a second Madara thought she would start to cry. But then she scowled at him and began to push him away from her.

“Go get me some water,” she commanded.

Madara blinked.

“Now!” she screeched, and Madara did as he was told.

He grumbled quietly to himself as he padded his way over to the river. He didn’t make a habit of taking orders – certainly not from little pink-haired kunoichis, but something in her tone made him feel the need to comply with her terse demands. He carried two sloshing bowls of water back toward the tent, his pace quick in case this was some sort of diversion.

But when he returned, the tent was open and Sakura stood in front of it, now sporting a pair of baggy sweatpants and that same cropped undergarment. She had pulled the bedroll out of the tent and unfurled it next to the fire. When she saw Madara approaching, she took a bowl of water and set it down next to the blood stained material.

She knelt down in the grass, and Madara watched with intrigue as she used a mixture of the water and her chakra to pull the blood from the bedroll. It was a fascinating procedure to watch, the way she pulled and tugged the little clouds of liquid. It was mesmerizing, and something about it lulled Madara into a state of sleepiness.

“I’m going to—”

“Shh!”

Madara scowled, not sure that he wanted to put up with her behavior for the next few days. He stepped inside the tent and zipped it closed behind him. He supposed he should feel quite bad for her, he thought as he pulled his bedroll up around his shoulders. But he was too sleepy to care about that now.

He closed his eyes. He could still hear the sloshing trickle of Sakura’s work outside the tent. It was quite soothing to hear, and he thought he might drift off to sleep any moment, but he couldn’t stop picturing Sakura out there in her half shirt, pushing and pulling that water cloud.

Then the sloshing stopped, and through the thin fabric of the tent Madara saw Sakura stand up and pull her bedroll up into the air to give it a few firm flaps. She laid it flat in the grass, and then stood with her hands on her hips for a long while. Madara took this opportunity to appreciate her silhouette again.

Finally, she moved, snatching her pack up off the ground before storming into the tent. She gave Madara an irritated glance, but seemed startled to find his red eyes peering at her through the darkness.

She made some kind of noise with the back of her throat – irritation or annoyance. Then she placed her pack down on the ground where the head of her bedroll had been, and set herself down against the hard ground and leaned her head back against her pack.

Madara stared at her and the rigid way she had crossed her arms, which were now spread with sharp goosebumps. She unsuccessfully attempted to repress a shiver, and when she caught him looking at her through the corner of her eye, she scowled deeper and turned her head away from him.

He wondered what sort of luxury she was accustomed to. He had seen her small, but rather lavish looking bed with the thick mattress and throng of pillows. Even this bedroll offered more comfort than the cot Madara was accustomed to sleeping on. Had she ever slept on the ground before?

If Hashirama were here, he would offer her his own bedroll. Madara rather liked his bedroll, and it wasn’t his fault that she had bled all over hers, so he wanted to keep it. He had never slept in one this nice before, and he felt he deserved to sleep in luxury for once.

Except it was hard to fall asleep because he could feel Sakura’s tension cloying up the air in the tent. She was silent and still, yes, but her chakra was strung tightly through her body, and if he listened hard enough he could hear the grit of her teeth.

“Would Sasuke give you his bedroll?” he asked her, his voice threading silkily through the tension in the air.

She turned on her side, and her glowing green eyes met his piercing red ones. She stared at him, her body strung taut like a drawn bow. Then the arrow loosed and she let out a heavy breath. Her body slackened and her gaze on him softened, though she continued to shiver. She was such a small thing Madara imagined she could fit beside him in his bedroll. That would feel nice, he thought, to have her trembling form to curl his body around.

“If I was on a mission with my team, Naruto or Kakashi-sensei would be the first to offer,” she said softly as if she didn’t want to disturb the night’s silence. “I don’t think it would occur to Sasuke to do something like that.”

Her eyes lingered on his face for a moment, and the anger and irritation that had been present in her eyes all day was suddenly gone.

“I’m sorry I slapped you,” she whispered.

He wasn’t sure that she meant that, but she punctuated the apology with a delicate flutter of her lashes, and as if his heartstrings were attached to those damnably pink lashes, his pulse raced with their movement.

Madara couldn’t have predicted his own reaction to such a blatant flirtation, if it had even been intentional at all. He could see that Sakura must have noticed at least the blush on his cheeks that probably accompanied their heat, or heard the way his pulse pounded so loudly in his chest for a few brief beats. She smiled demurely, and then fluttered them again.

Now he felt deceived, though he had no idea deception could be so pleasurable. He felt positively warm all over. Did she think she could just bat her eyes and he would just hand over his bedroll?

“Come here,” he said to her, and he was amused when her eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

But it was to his surprise that she actually stood up and crossed the few feet that spread between them. He obligingly pulled the cover of his bedroll down, shifting so that there would be room for her inside.

Her tittering giggle surprised him further, and he looked up into her face, bemused by her ever-changing emotions.

“I’m not going to share a bedroll with you, you pervert.”

“Fine. Sleep in the cold, then.”

Her face dropped and she stared into the space he had allowed for her in the bedroll. “Are you serious?” she demanded. “But I fucking gave it to you.”

“I know your period is the cause for these mood swings, so I won’t take them to heart,” he said, “but I’d advise you to settle for this compromise. We are down to one bedroll. It makes sense that we share it.”

“Madara,” she said with condescending sweetness. “Thanks for the input, but I’ll advise you to keep your opinions about me and my period in that pretty little head of yours.”

He grinned with amusement. “Fine,” he said again, pulling the bedroll back over his legs.

“Wait,” she said, so he looked back up at her with smugness spread over his features, and a sort of giddiness that made him feel light and heady. “Just for tonight,” she said, pulling back the bedroll so she could climb in beside him.

Madara’s nerves were on fire as she sidled down into the bedroll, shimmying until her feet were at the bottom, which put her head down below his armpit. She elbowed him sharply in the ribs, and he grunted, waiting for her to situate herself comfortably. She stirred for long enough that he became annoyed, but when she finally settled down, her side was pressed warmly against his because there just wasn’t enough room for them to have space between them.

He hoped that she found comfort in the warmness of his body. He had trouble imagining anything as contenting as her relaxed body against his, and he took her general comfort and the way her breathing slowed as she sought sleep to be a trusting gesture, which made him want to press his cheek down into the top of her head.

Of course there wasn’t really any trust between them – not yet anyway. This was a first step, and a dangerously intimate one at that. They could sleep near one another. They could even touch one another like this now. He wasn’t going to use genjutsu on her, and she wasn’t going to invade his mind with her chakra. They were just going to exist in this homogenous wad of sleep until morning, and then they would resume their terse unfriendliness.

But Madara found himself too tempted by her nearness as night continued to pass, and sleep found Sakura but eluded Madara, as it usually did. He listened to her even breaths, acutely aware of all the places their bodies touched, the warmth of her body beneath her clothes, the heat of her skin on her exposed midriff.

Trying not to think of himself as perverse, like Sakura thought he was, Madara turned onto his side, facing her so that he could curl his body around her much smaller one. His hand came to her naked waist, pulling her tighter against him. She stirred, but then settled comfortable against his chest. He sniffed her pink hair, inhaling the scent of cucumber and coconut.

Madara didn’t know how Sasuke could resist a woman like Sakura. He wasn’t so sure he would be able to.

///

Madara woke from the most blissful state of sleep he had ever been in to a bony elbow lodged in his neck. Sakura was stirring beside him, and the early light of morning seeped through the corners of the tent. He pushed her arm gently back down against her chest and allowed himself a brief moment to enjoy the feel of her asleep against him.

That moment was short lived as Sakura, who had her face buried in his chest, realized that she was rather cozily pressed against him and let out a yelp of surprise. She pulled away from him, but the confines of the bedroll didn’t allow her much room to move.

“Get up,” she said to him, her once relaxed body now uncomfortably rigid.

Madara groaned groggily and stretched his body, letting his bones pop and creak as they would. It was with slow leisure that he ignored her terse command, instead moving his arm to settled around her shoulders and squeeze her tightly against him again.

Sakura was still against him, though he made no move to get up. He couldn’t see her face from this angle, but he felt her sigh, her breath raising goosebumps on his arms. Her body was limp, and for one second she seemed to melt against him. It led him to believe that perhaps she enjoyed sharing the bedroll as much as he had.

After a moment, she raised her head up, and Madara instinctively palmed the back of her head, pressing her cheek to his chest.

“We really have to get going,” she snapped. He could hear the scowl in her voice.

Gingerly, Madara lifted the edge of the bedroll, peering down to where his and Sakura’s legs were mingled. Sakura pinched his arm. “What are you looking at?” she demanded as Madara flung the cover of his bedroll away and got up to his feet.

“Just checking to make sure you didn’t bleed all over me,” he said with a shrug, watching her get to her feet. Her hair was adorably mussed, and redness tinged her cheeks.

She ushered him out into the early morning’s brisk air, and he happily obliged, feeling optimistic for once. He had slept well, and the solid sleep had eased some of the tension in his shoulders and rejuvenated him with new, bright energy.

Sakura had no time for his good mood as she quickly tore down camp. When she had finished with the tent, she gathered up her now-dry bedroll, and furled it up, and placed it back neatly in her pack. Madara mused that if the opportunity presented itself, he should ‘lose’ his own bedroll so they might be forced to share again.

They hit the road again, this time in a more companionable but still tense silence.

Sakura’s pace was agonizingly slow, even when they were running. Madara tried not to feel too annoyed by it. She was on her period, after all, and though he knew nothing about menstruation, he presumed it was painful.

So he left her alone to sulk while he kept up the rear. The slower pace gave him the opportunity to peruse more of those books Sakura had given him. A couple he had left behind after he’d read them – ones pertaining to the actual founding of the village and how the clans came together.

There was still a lot of knowledge he had to catch up on, but it was difficult to know where to begin. It would have been much easier to speak to an Uchiha elder to fill in all the gaps Sakura’s history textbooks left out, but there were none. His next most reliable source of information just happened to be Sasuke or his older brother Itachi.

Heading toward Sasuke was a stroke of luck, but that didn’t mean Madara could just ignore that Itachi was out there somewhere. Sakura had said he had joined a terrorist organization. He felt this somehow warranted his attention, though he wasn’t sure how to work it into his plan.

Madara tucked that thought away for later while he delved into the last remaining chapters. As he snapped the last book shut and fecklessly tossed it into a nearby bush, he wondered why he had decided that Konoha was a failed experiment and decided to challenge Hashirama the way he had. The book indicated that he had attacked Konoha itself with something called the nine-tails. What did that mean? Was that why Sakura seemed so afraid of him?

He would get no answers from her. She probably didn’t even know the truth. The missing gaps in his knowledge frustrated him, and he needed to come up with something quickly. If Plan A worked out, Madara didn’t want to leave without figuring out everything he needed to know in order to change the future to a much better one when he returned.

Ahead of him, Sakura wandered a few feet off of the road and crouched down to inspect something in the brambly bushes. Madara jogged to catch up with her and peer down curiously into the brambles.

“A cat,” she said sadly. “Looks like he got his paw stuck.”

Madara gave a dubious glance to the solid black cat who had been foolish enough to get stuck in a patch of brambles. It was scrawny and thin, and one of its ears appeared to be missing its very tip.

Sakura began to reach her delicate, tiny arms through the brush, to which Madara gave a disapproving tut. “Are you going to stop to heal every bird and rodent we find along the way?” he demanded, perhaps a bit too harshly.

“Only the cute ones,” she said with a smile that instantly melted any residual anger he felt. He watched her pull the hissing, screeching cat through the brambles and thorns. She was careful not to hurt it anymore than it already was, and under her green, glowing touch, it calmed down enough that Sakura was able to heal its lacerations quickly.

“All done,” she said, not even five minutes later, setting the wretched cat back on its four paws. It rubbed affectionately against Sakura’s legs, and Madara could hear it purring even from where he stood.

“Five minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” Madara muttered. Sakura cast him an annoyed look as they made their way back to the road.

“Have a heart, Madara,” she said, and he peered at her with curiosity. He much preferred when she used honorifics with his name, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her that right now. “Look at him. He’s so cute and so grateful you let me to stop to heal him.”

She began to giggle and Madara looked down at his feet to see the cat walking back and forth between his legs, purring and rubbing himself up against his feet.

Madara shook his head and the three of them took off this time. The cat trailed just behind Sakura’s ankles, trotting along even at her brisk pace. Madara didn’t think it wise for Sakura to let it follow her. She would get attached to it, he could tell.

“Black cats are bad luck, you know,” he called out to her.

“Well, then I guess I’ve got a lot of bad luck coming to me, because I’ve got two black cats with me,” she tossed back.

Like a flash of lightning, he was in front of her. His arm shot out to block her path, but she merely scowled at him as she walked around it. “You mean me?” he asked with a smirk. “I guess I can see it. A panther.”

Sakura gave a derisive scoff. “Oh, you will be a panther, Madara,” she said teasingly. “But right now you’re a harmless kitten.”

Madara felt something begin to heat up in his core, something that swelled in his chest like anger, but not like the kind he was used to feeling. If anything it was pleasurable. He could feel her light jab like an injection of fire in his veins – the same feeling when Hashirama would challenge or tease him.

“Is that so?” he asked her, eying her to appraise the seventeen years she claimed and whether or not she would admit that she was a kitten herself.

“I could have killed you, you know,” she said pointedly, pausing to look at him over her shoulder. “I could have stopped your heart in your sleep. I could have severed your brainstem. Just with a touch.”

Madara laughed, but he felt a tingling sensation on his scalp realizing that he had put himself in a rather vulnerable situation, and was debating whether or not it was worth it to share a bedroll again. Was her touch really the worst way to die?

“It’s not funny,” she snapped.

“No,” he agreed. “Nothing funny about these dangerous little fingers,” he said, reaching for her hand.

She pulled it away. “Yet you fell asleep under them,” she said accusingly.

Madara felt certain that there wasn’t much she could have done before his shinobi instincts would clue him in and he’d be able to stop her. He was much faster than she was, and yes, all she needed was a touch, but all he needed was a glance.

“You fell asleep, too, didn’t you, Sunflower,” he teased back, unable to contain his lecherous grin. “Tell me it didn’t feel nice to have me curled around you like the strong, protective panther that I am.”

“You’re an arrogant pinhead.”

“But I look like your precious Sasuke,” he teased. “Except, well, come on, I’m a little better looking.”

Sakura paused, her hands balled up into fists at her sides. He knew Sasuke was a sore, sensitive subject, but he’d get her to open up about him one way or the other.

“I get it,” he said with faux resignation. “You don’t want to betray your future husband by admitting that you find me so much more handsome. I understand. From what I’ve heard, I don’t have a wife in the future, but if I did there is no possible way she could be more beautiful than you. I guess I won’t tell her that, though.”

“I’m not stupid enough to let you charm and seduce information out of me,” she said. “If there’s something you want to know, you can just ask me.”

Madara grinned, because of course she wasn’t stupid. That didn’t mean she wasn’t susceptible to his charm.

“Did you enjoy sleeping next to me?”

“Is my answer important to you?” she asked sweetly.

He lowered his face toward her, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He was pleased to see that she wasn’t avoiding his gaze and had captured him again with those mesmerizing eyes. 

“I just want to know that the future Uchiha matriarch has a healthy sexual appetite,” he said with seriousness. “Are you prepared to revive an entire bloodline? You and Sasuke are going to have a lot of babies to make.”

Sakura’s face was consumed by flame. She crossed her arms and turned her face away from him, but he grabbed her chin and tilted her face toward his. “I can help you practice,” he offered.

She shoved his chest and he obligingly stepped away from her. 

He laughed as she began to stomp her way back down the road.


	11. Chapter 11

“Come on, Sunflower, just tell me a little bit,” Madara implored, chasing after her as she sulked. The cat was still on her ankles, and it hissed warningly whenever Madara stepped too close. “Are there other women Sasuke is considering? Is that why he hasn’t kissed you? Do any of them possess a kekkei genkai?”

“Why are you so interested?” she demanded. “Aren’t you just going to change all this when you get back to your time? This couldn’t have been what you wanted. Sasuke might not even exist in the future, so why do you care if he marries me or not?”

Madara narrowed his eyes on the back of her head, but continued to walk in step behind her. “The state of my clan should be my biggest concern, don’t you think?” he asked tersely. “If I can’t go back to my time, then this is it. Just your Sasuke and his traitorous older brother.”

“If you can’t go back to your time, then you could just stay here and revive your clan yourself,” she snapped. “You don’t need Sasuke for that.”

Startled by the thought, Madara glanced up at the sky. That was true. He could go somewhere far away from Konoha and the Senju and restore his clan to be even more powerful than they had been before.

His eyes lingered on Sakura where she walked ahead of him, and he let them wander over her backside with leisure.

As if sensing his eyes on her, she turned to glare at him over her shoulder. “You don’t need me either,” she said.

Madara scoffed, “As much as I’d like to fill you with my seed, I couldn’t handle it if any of my children came out with pink hair. Besides, it would be in my best interest to take a wife with wider hips.”

Something in Sakura’s demeanor shifted, and as if an icy breeze had whipped through the air, it was suddenly cold.

“Aww, don’t be upset now,” he said, feeling just the tiniest stab of guilt. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine wife for Sasuke. Loyalty is one of the—”

“Sasuke is not interested, okay?” she snapped, whirling to look him in the eye. “He’s not going to marry me. He hates me. He wants nothing to do with me. Can you just drop it?”

Stunned, Madara blinked. “Then why the hell are you so excited to see him?”

“He’s in a bad place,” she said tersely, looking back toward the road. “I don’t expect him to love me back for it, but he’s my teammate and my friend and I want to help him. If I have the power to help him, I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Oh,” Madara said a little lamely. “So this is a case of unrequited love. You’ll make him love you by being there for him and fixing all his problems.”

“I’m not trying to make him love me,” she said softly. “I just want him to know that I’ll always be there for him.”

Madara peered at her, first with a little irritation and then with concern. “Sasuke   
must not realize how lucky he is,” he murmured, his gentle tone catching Sakura’s attention. He leaned in a little closer to her, breathing in her earthy scent. He wanted to tell her all sorts of other things, like why Sasuke was so lucky to have this beautiful, talented kunoichi so devoted to providing him with all kinds of different services.

But then several chakra signatures began to converge on them, quickly and with clear purpose. Madara could sense their power – it felt artificial, though he couldn’t explain exactly why.

Sakura felt it, too, and she slid her feet into a fighting stance. “Sound shinobi,” she whispered to him. “We should leave at least one of them alive.”

“Are they going to attack?” he asked, curious as to why a bordering nation’s shinobi would attack the Hokage’s apprentice.

His question was answered when a kunai landed point first in the ground an inch away from her foot.

“Well, well, well,” said a male voice. “The medic found a new Uchiha to play with.”

Madara glanced up at the trees, noting the positions of the three shinobi he could detect.

“He doesn’t look like Itachi,” another one said, leaping down to stand in the middle of the road before Sakura and Madara.

“Well, we know he ain’t Sasuke,” said the last one, leaping down to join his friend.

The first one climbed carefully down his tree and stood at the side of the road, appraising Madara and Sakura with a critical eye. His eyes lingered on Madara, assessing the dangers of engaging an unknown Sharingan user.

“What is the Hokage’s apprentice doing so far out from Konoha?” he asked. “Do you know how close you are to the Sound border? Not attempting another Sasuke retrieval, are you?”

“We’re here to see Orochimaru,” Sakura said, and her voice was calm and steady in spite of her being surrounded by enemies, and easily the smallest of the group.

“You’re out of luck, princess.”

Sakura bristled. Madara wished she didn’t seem so tensely coiled. It was just a handful of errant shinobi. He had seen her strength – she could handle them if she tried.

“We should kill her and collect the bounty,” one of them suggested. “She’s got a high price in the bingo book.”

“Oh, sure, and anger her Uchiha guardian?”

Madara eyed all three of them with skepticism. He wasn’t sure they could kill her, but he didn’t plan on giving them the chance.

“I have a proposition for Orochimaru that I think he’ll want to hear,” Sakura continued, her voice unwavering. “It will be in your best interest to take us to him.”

“Orochimaru is dead, girl,” one of the Sound shinobi said. “You have your teammate Sasuke to thank for that.”

Madara flicked his gaze to Sakura, appraising how she handled this new information. Her skin was ghostly white, but when she opened her mouth to speak again, she sounded as confident as ever.

“Sasuke killed him?” she asked. “Where did he go?”

The Sound shinobi all laughed, and the one standing closest to Sakura took another step toward her. “You think because you’ve got a convincing looking henge or something that we’ll be afraid of you?” he demanded. “We don’t owe you any information.”

Sakura’s gaze flicked over to Madara, who gave a minute shrug. He would let her take the lead on this unless he had reason not to. She had better working knowledge of current events, so he trusted her judgment. 

“Where do your loyalties lie now that Orochimaru is dead?” she asked the Sound shinobi. “Kabuto?”

“As if we’d do anything for that jackass.”

Sakura frowned at this. “Do you know where Kabuto is?”

“What do I get if I tell you?” the one closest to her asked. Madara was not a fan of his devious smirk.

“You’ll get to leave here with all your limbs in tact.”

The three of them laughed again, but Madara tasted the new shift in the air, noticed the way each of them were now poised for attack.

“Who is your protector here?” one of the others asked Sakura. “This cannot be Itachi, but there are no other Uchiha.”

It was with great amusement that Madara watched Sakura lob a loaded fist toward the Sound shinobi in front of her. The fool made the exact same mistake that Madara had, catching her tiny, frail looking fist in one palm.

The resulting series of cracks and snaps that echoed through the air sent a tingle down Madara’s spine. He didn’t have time to revel in her strength as the remaining two shinobi converged on her.

The first shinobi’s cry pierced the air as Madara grabbed another one by the neck just as he reached for a handful of Sakura’s hair and slammed him into the ground. Madara gave him no time to beg for his life, or even know that the end was coming. He placed his foot carefully over the shinobi’s throat and stomped downward, crushing his windpipe with a satisfying crunch.

The other, who ran toward his downed friends with a pained, angry cry made the mistake of looking up into Madara’s Sharingan. Madara couldn’t blame him. They were curious about this new Uchiha that had seemingly sprung up out of nowhere. Still, if they were familiar with his clan at all, they should have known better. Madara immediately swept him into rather painful genjutsu and then watched his body slump into the grass.

“Is Kabuto still alive?” Sakura asked the remained shinobi, who was now knelt on the ground, clutching his broken arm. Madara could see the damage extended all the way up to the man’s chest, and he looked at Sakura with a little awe and a little appreciation that for whatever reason she had decided to not completely destroy his whole arm during their previous spar.

“I don’t know!” the shinobi said, cowering as Madara came to join Sakura in her interrogation.

Sakura turned her head to look at him, wincing against the brightness of the sun in her eyes. “Can you tell if he’s telling the truth?” she asked him.

Madara couldn’t – not with these eyes. He needed the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan for that, and he suspected that Sakura was aware of that. But he knelt down in front of the shinobi anyway. He had other ways of discerning the truth.

“You think you know pain,” Madara said. “I will show you true pain. Then you will tell my companion everything she wants to know.”

The shinobi had wisely screwed his eyes shut, but it made no difference. Madara reached for his head and used his thumbs to pry both eyelids open. The man screamed and struggled against him, but then his body went slack and his eyes vacant as he was sucked into Madara’s genjutsu.

“See?” he said to Sakura, gesturing to the shinobi slumped on the ground. “He’s submitting to me because I’m dominant like a panther.”

“He’s submitting to you because you have a freak of nature doujutsu, you knob,” she said. “I just need to know where Kabuto is. Don’t keep him in there too long.”

Madara begrudgingly returned his attention to the incapacitated shinobi, who was probably feeling all sorts of illusion-spawned horror about now. Madara slowly ebbed away at the illusions until the shinobi’s eyes came into focus again. Reality wasn’t any kinder to him as Madara twisted his arm high behind his back and pointed him in Sakura’s direction.

“Answer all her questions honestly,” Madara breathed, “and I’ll let you walk away alive.”

He gave a curt nod to Sakura, who suddenly looked a little nervous. But she crouched down in front of the shinobi anyway, her eyes blazing with fierceness.

“Do you know where Kabuto is?” she asked.

“I don’t, I swear,” said the man. Madara’s grip on his arm tightened. “Sasuke attacked Orochimaru-sama in the middle of the night and killed him. The next morning Kabuto informed us of what happened. Chaos erupted over Sound, and no one has seen Kabuto since.”

Sakura frowned at this news, her delicate, pink brow furrowed in concentration. “Why did Sasuke kill Orochimaru?” she asked.

“Why do you think?” snapped the shinobi, and Madara twisted his arm up further. He winced, but didn’t glance back at Madara, whose pinwheel eyes were still spinning.

“He thinks he’s strong enough to kill his brother?”

At this question, the man did turn to look over his shoulder at Madara, who undoubtedly was an Uchiha with those eyes and that face. Perhaps the shinobi of the Sound village weren’t as well-versed in Konoha’s history, but they weren’t too far away from the Valley where there was a massive monument erected in his likeness. It was for his and Sakura’s safety that he reached for the man’s neck and quickly snapped it. That was one mercy he could extend, at least.

“I had more questions!” Sakura shouted, watching the man slump into the dirt.

“We’ll get our answers,” he assured her. “First I need you to tell me who this Orochimaru guy is and what Sasuke was doing with him all the way out here.”

Sakura stared disapprovingly at the body in the dirt. With an irritated scowl, Madara scooped him up and tossed him in the air so he could incinerate him with a quick fireball jutsu.

“Come,” he said, extending his hand to her. “We need to get to the bottom of this. Who is Orochimaru?”

Her eyes locked onto his and he had the feeling he may have frightened her. She dropped her gaze down to his extended hand, and her head tilted with curiosity. Madara looked down at his hand, too, wondering what was so curious about it.

Though he supposed that he was sometimes fascinated by her hands and their tininess and paradoxical strength. He wondered if his hands seemed big to her.

But then to his surprise, she placed her hand in his, and as if her thoughts had been the same, she flipped his hand over and lifted it to her face. Madara was patient with her as she angled it toward the light, inspecting it from every angle. Her touch was incredibly gentle as she began to trace the little scars that constellated his hand and wrist.

“I can get rid of these scars, you know,” she said. “Are they from your fire jutsus? Sasuke has these special bracers made. I could—”

He silenced her by jerking roughly on her hand so that she came tumbling toward him. She braced her free hand against his chest for balance, but quickly removed it as her cheeks began to redden. She tried to slip her other hand out of his grip, but Madara held onto it tightly.

“I love that you’re distracted by my body,” he murmured lowly, enjoying the way her body lit up with goosebumps, “but we’ve got a mission here and the trail is getting cold.”

Sakura yanked her hand out of his, scowling with displeasure. “I’m a healer,” she said defensively. “I see an injury, I want to heal it.”

“Burn scars aren’t injuries,” he said pragmatically, and grabbed her shoulder to steer her back down the path. A snapping twig nearby caught Madara’s attention, and he angled his body between the sound and Sakura, watching closely as two feline eyes peered out at him from behind the cover of pines.

Cautiously, it stepped away from the trees and made its way back down to the dirt path. Even Madara felt a twinge of sympathy for the wretched thing as it shivered with fear. Now that the commotion was over, he ambled back to Sakura, resuming its pace behind her as if nothing had happened.

He had meant for them to run now – at a pace too quick for a housecat to keep up with. He caught Sakura’s pained look as she gazed down at the cat between her feet. Madara’s hand was still on her shoulder, and he felt her step away from him so he dropped his hand.

“Orochimaru?” he asked again, suddenly a little put off by his travel companion and her weirdness and prettiness and annoyingness and his own desire to touch her all the time, even at his own detriment.

“He’s a missing-nin,” she finally explained as they picked up their pace a little bit. “Before he defected from Konoha, he was on a team with my master, Tsunade-sama, and this guy Jiraiya who’s even more perverted than you.”

Madara cast her a scathing look.

“The three of them are called the legendary sannin,” she continued, smirking a little when she caught his glance. “They were heroes during the Second Shinobi War, hailed as the greatest shinobi of their time.”

Madara grunted skeptically. 

“Don’t scoff like that,” she snapped. “Orochimaru left Konoha because he wanted to be Hokage but someone else was chosen. Before he left, he had been doing these awful human experiments that were discovered by the previous Hokage. When he left, he continued to research that horrible garbage in Sound.”

Sakura glanced behind her back, so Madara flicked his gaze back there, too. The cat had fallen behind, and Sakura let out a tiny, almost imperceptible sigh. Feeling an inexplicable affection for Sakura in that moment, Madara slowed his gait, allowing the cat a chance to catch up.

She glanced furtively up at his face, seeking answers for that simple but unmistakable gesture. He wasn’t sure he could help her find them.

“Anyway,” she said as they moved at their slower pace, “Sasuke left the village when he felt he had learned everything he could here. He wanted to gain more power so he could kill Itachi, so he sought out Orochimaru.”

“And that’s where he’s been all this time?”

Sakura nodded. Madara pondered this a moment, trying to get into Sasuke’s frame of mind. Of course he wanted to avenge his clan – Madara would have wanted to same. But how could this Orochimaru possibly help him? If he wanted power, he need not look further than the eyes in his own head. Perhaps a lot of knowledge regarding the Sharingan had been lost over the years, but Madara didn’t think that likely. After all, Sakura had sought out that information on her own.

“So now that he’s killed Orochimaru, he must be ready to find and kill his brother,” Madara speculated, and Sakura gave a noncommittal shrug. “Do you think he’s left Sound already?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “but it doesn’t matter. We aren’t here to see Sasuke.”

They continued to amble on in silence. Madara didn’t know how fragile Sakura’s feelings were, but he didn’t want to mention the fact that she had been quite obviously eager to see him before, and now that seemed unlikely.

The day moved slowly, and Madara grew frustrated with their continued slow pace, though he was a little mollified by the obvious comfort Sakura got from that stupid cat. That night, after they had crossed the Sound border and were officially in ‘enemy’ territory, Sakura found another spot to make camp.

This time they were settled deep in the woods. Sakura set up camp in silence, and when she finished, Madara didn’t wait for her to ask before he performed another fireball jutsu and lit the fire pit she had set up.

Wordlessly, they settled down beside the fire, Sakura absently petting the cat’s head. She seemed absorbed in thought, so Madara took the opportunity to study her a little bit. Her eyes were bright but she worried her lower lip between her teeth, and he wondered what she was thinking about.

“Umm, thank you for, uhh, the cat thing,” she said, looking up into his eyes. She appeared startled to find him already staring at her, and he cocked his head to the side at her curious gratefulness. “I mean for letting him catch up,” she said, and Madara noticed that she had quite a few freckles across the bridge of her nose.

“You should name it,” he suggested, even though it went against every firmly held belief he had against getting attached to the poor little thing. The firelight danced shadows over the cat’s whiskered face. It purred contentedly while Sakura scratched behind its ears.

“I can’t do that,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m already attached enough as it is.”

Madara chuckled as he leaned back against his palms. “Of course you are, you delicate little thing,” he said.

“I’m not delicate,” she snapped.

“Are you sure?” he asked teasingly. “You seem pretty fragile to me.”

“You couldn’t break me if you tried,” she said heatedly, and the challenge stoked something warm in his gut.

Madara peered at her, mirth dancing in his eyes. She was a real treat, he thought – all that fire and compassion and beauty. Breaking her would be a challenge.

“You think so?” he asked her, his tomoe spinning. Sakura trusted him enough not to look away from him, and he was thrilled by the way she held eye contact in spite of her obvious fear of him. But it wasn’t the reaction he wanted from her, so he deactivated his Sharingan.

Her expression softened, and Madara couldn’t help but grin. “You think I’m handsome like this, don’t you?” he teased.

She huffed and turned her cheek away from him.

“I know I’m not Sasuke,” he said, shifting a little closer to her, “but you can admit that I’m at least as handsome as he is.”

“You’ve got a big head, don’t you, Madara?”

“Among other things.”

He watched the tips of her ears burn, feeling amused and a little warm being so close to her. Shadows flickered across her eyes, sparking life into her oceanic eyes.

“I’m sorry I stole your first kiss,” he said, and she reddened even further. For all her experience as a kunoichi and the greatest medic in the world, she was rather inexperienced in more personable matters, in spite of her ripe age of, what, seventeen? “If I had known that then I would have done it differently.”

She blinked her beautiful doe eyes at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip while her brow furrowed with confusion. “You mean you wouldn’t have kissed me at all?” she asked, and he was mesmerized by the new husky lilt in her voice.

Madara shook his head. “I’d give you a proper kiss.”

She scowled, and he didn’t blame her for not liking the idea, though part of him was stung by her apparent rejection.

“Is this your way of trying to break me?” she demanded harshly. “Because if it is, it’s not going to work.”

Madara shook his head again, cracking a small smile for her. “I don’t want to break you,” he said. “You’re going to be the next Uchiha matriarch, so I’d rather have you in pique condition.”

A piece of her was shattered by this statement, and for a moment Madara wondered if he had inadvertently broken her. Her eyes glazed over for a second, and she dropped her gaze into the fire pit, the flame reflecting ominously in her green eyes. He guessed she was thinking of Sasuke and wondering if she would ever see him again. Perhaps Itachi would kill him, and she wouldn’t get to marry her childhood crush and become the Uchiha matriarch.

That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, Madara though as his gaze dipped a little lower on her, scouring her petite frame and the way she hugged herself close to the open flame. He didn’t like the idea of this Sasuke character’s hands all over her.

“What’s a proper kiss?”

Surprised, his eyes languidly made their way back up to her face. Her face was much closer to his now, and there was something enthralling about her curious expression, heavy-lidded eyes, and glowing skin.

“How is it different than the one…”

She demurred away from her own question, and Madara had a sneaking suspicion that she might have enjoyed her first kiss, consent aside.

“Hmm,” Madara hummed, pretending to think over the question in great detail. “Well, I kissed you because I wanted you to look at me and I thought it would shock you enough to look into my eyes.”

Sakura glared at him, but with inexplicable warmth behind it.

“If I were to kiss you now,” he continued, closing in a little more on her until he could feel her soft breaths over his face, “I’d make sure you felt it everywhere.”

He reached for her arm, trailing his fingertips from her shoulder down to her wrist with an achingly gentle touch, admiring the goosebumps that formed along her skin. Her eyes widened on him, infuriating cosmic in their unspeakable depths.

“Like that,” he said, tearing his eyes away from hers to watch the goosebumps spread. “I’d make sure your toes curl and your heart hammers. I’d make sure you remember it.”

Sakura’s eyes were wavering, plunging him down into some darkness he didn’t even know he had inside him. She looked afraid, but also warm and tender like she felt pity for him, and he didn’t like that but he did like the way her fingers reached forward, trembling as they hovered near his hand.

“That would have been a nice first kiss, I bet,” she said, retracting her hand and tucking it neatly into her lap.

Madara murmured his agreement. “It’s for the best, though,” he said. “Hopefully Sasuke won’t mind that I stole your first kiss if it was for practical purposes.” He couldn’t care less about what Sasuke thought, but he could feel Sakura leaning even closer to him, and if he just scooted an inch or so closer, he could have her tucked under his arm.

Suddenly she pulled away from him, retreating back into her shell. Her eyes hardened, but not so much that he believed her to be angry – at least not with him.

“Who could have guessed that Madara Uchiha would be such a flirt?” she asked sarcastically.

“I’m twenty,” he reminded her. “I’m not the Madara you know.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I’m going to change the future. This isn’t how things were supposed to happen. I won’t be that Madara.”

“You mean you won’t lose to Hashirama-sama.”

“Exactly,” he said, though it was much more than that. He wouldn’t be the Madara who attacked his own village. He wouldn’t be the Madara who left his clan in shambles, allowing it to dwindle into obscurity.

If he ever made it back to his own time, he would do everything differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick today so here's a bonus chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

Madara and Sakura sat by the fire in comfortable silence. A million times he had felt the inclination to kiss her, to show her what a real, proper kiss could feel like. Her interest in it had stoked a fire in his gut – one low and smoldering, and a little frustrating.

He still wasn’t sure how much he could trust her, and she clearly had a romantic interest in someone else.

But she also let her eyes linger on him when she thought he wasn’t looking. She kept that lower lip of hers trapped between her teeth, and she twisted her pink hair around her fingers.

Madara could easily read these signs, these curious little glances, heated, confused, maybe a little guilty. She wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him because she had saved herself just for Sasuke, but here he was, looking like Sasuke, kissing her, flirting with her. He knew he should stop both because she didn’t want it and because in the end it would really only hurt him. He didn’t want to have to miss her when he got back home.

Mercifully, Sakura’s stomach growled, and Madara realized they had hardly eaten all day. Sakura reached behind her for her pack and pulled out her little container of rice.

“This is why your natural strength is so weak,” he pointed out to her. “You need to eat more protein.”

“It’s sweet of you to be concerned for my health,” she said, “but don’t worry. I get plenty of protein.”

He gave her a skeptical look, shaking his head with amusement. “You eat your rice,” he said, getting up to his feet. “I need something a little more sustaining.”

Sakura tutted, her eyes following him as he made his way into the woods.

There was nothing wrong with her meager little rice meals, and Madara was sure that she had some nasty little food pills tucked away in her pack. He had seen her pop one that morning. Madara was a little more old-fashioned. He needed meat cooked over a proper fire.

He reactivated his Sharingan and scanned the woods for any animals. The woods were far quieter here in Sound, Madara noticed. It seemed the animals here were far more skittish.

But he was able to find a couple of deer skittering their way through the trees. He killed the larger of the two, a buck, with a precisely aimed kunai across its jugular. The other bolted away, and Madara heaved the beast into his arms to bring back to camp.

Sakura did not seem impressed by his catch. She wrinkled her nose with distaste as Madara dumped it beside the fire and began dressing it.

“What’s the matter?” he teased as he sliced through the buck’s skin.

She eyed the buck with disdain, holding her bowl of rice close to her chest. “You’re not going to eat all that,” she said skeptically. “Why wouldn’t you have caught something smaller?”

“I was going to share.”

“No thanks,” she said, turning her shoulders away from him.

“I meant with the cat,” he said, glancing toward the cat curled up at Sakura’s feet, “but of course you know I don’t have a problem sharing with you either.”

Madara didn’t look at her again until he had finished with the dear and had collected a rather large amount of venison to cook. He felt more of those furtive glances from Sakura, but by the time he had finished, she was no longer so stealthy about it. She stared unabashed at his hands as they worked, and Madara was oddly satisfied by their current state – bloodied and calloused and scarred.

He used the deer’s pelt to wipe his hands, sparing Sakura a quick glance as he prepared to cook his venison.

She was watching him more closely now, and he noticed she had finished her rice so she couldn’t have been too bothered by what she had seen. She was a kunoichi, after all, so it was likely that she had dressed animals herself at some point in time. Unless that wasn’t what they taught her in Konoha, and maybe she’d never even killed an animal before.

“Have you ever had venison?” he asked her, unable to contain his curiosity.

“Of course I’ve had venison,” she said. “We have deer in the future, obviously.”

He gave her a pointed look. “Have you ever eaten your own kill?”

“My own…?”

She looked down at her feet and Madara turned his attention back to the venison roasting over the fire. “They don’t teach you basic survival skills in Konoha?” he grumbled. “Now this is definitely a future I have to prevent.”

“I know how to do it,” she snapped. “I have a thousand other tools at my disposal, even without the aid of chakra. I know how to survive in the woods without killing a deer, but I could catch and cook a deer if I wanted to.”

“Ok, good,” he said solemnly. “Then you can catch us dinner tomorrow.”

“As if I don’t do enough for you already,” she muttered under her breath.

Madara turned to look at her, and she shrank back away from him, which made him remember that his Sharingan was still activated. Since he sort of liked that dreamy, melt-y look she gave him when it was deactivated, he let his eyes bleed back into their natural charcoal color.

“You have been exceptionally generous,” he said earnestly, and placed his hand over her knee. Her leg practically exploded with goosebumps. Madara felt them prickling under his palm, which suddenly seemed so out of place on her. Her leg was a perfect, unblemished thread of silk, and his rough, bloodstained hand had no right to be on it. She was probably disgusted by his touch after watching him dress the buck.

But he couldn’t let go of her either. He could hear her racing heartbeat even over the din of the fire. She was this small, living thing with such a wildly beating heart – just like that buck, and he wasn’t sure what to do now that he had frightened her.

“Can I take a look at this?” she asked, touching her fingertips to the back of his hand.

He glanced up at her face to see that she didn’t look frightened at all. It was something else entirely that had lit her body up like this.

Sakura lifted his hand up to her face, inspecting it as she had before earlier that day. His fingers in particular seemed to interest her, and it was a little bit awkwardly that Madara let her observe each one individually, visually measuring his scars and callouses. Her fingers were velvety and a little cold. They felt like silky smooth water flowing around his hands, and she wasn’t even using chakra.

“Would you mind if I healed these scars?” she asked.

Her eyes connected with his and he could swear there was something a little sultry there, something dark and pleading.

Madara wanted to say yes. He knew what her deceivingly pretty hands were capable of. Could she send chakra through his arm and all the way up into his brain? Would she do that cloud-clearing thing again? She could hurt him or kill him, and all reason dictated that he not allow her to do such a thing.

She dropped his hand. “It’s okay,” she said quickly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mean there’s nothing wrong with having scars or anything. It’s just really satisfying to heal them.”

“Why?”

She blinked and shook her head as if trying to clear her head. “Just watching them fade away into the skin is a little mesmerizing,” she explained.

“Oh,” Madara said. “Well, I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?”

He held his hand up to her, letting it hover palm-up in front of her chest. It was hard to resist the urge to touch her, to grab her by the back of her neck and pull her into a slow, languid, lingering kiss. She looked like she wanted it with her wide eyes and sultry pout. She leaned in a little closer to him and her eyes dipped down to his hand. Her pink lashes rested against her cheeks, so pink and practically glowing next to the fire. He knew she didn’t want it, though, so he didn’t kiss her.

“I want to see it,” he said. His voice came out a little hoarser than he’d intended, and Sakura looked up at him, her eyes glinting.

Her hands came up to his fingers and she twisted his hand around so she could see the back of it. He felt her chakra seep into his hand and the feeling him jolted him out of the hazy sensation of being so close to her.

“Just my hand,” he said sternly.

“Just your hand,” she echoed.

Her chakra tingled, but was otherwise unnoticeable as it filtered through his hand. He could barely feel it at all, but he could see that his hand was glowing, particularly around his fingers where the burn scars were the worst.

Madara watched with fascination as the raised burn scars began to recede, the redness fading away into his skin. The delicate lines and scratches borne from years of training, sparring sessions, and war began to ebb away, seeping down against his skin until they were no longer visible and all that remained was a smooth, pale hand. Even his callouses had been smoothed over, though the bit of dried blood and dirt that the deer pelt could not catch still lingered.

He would have pulled his hand away and held it up to the moonlight himself for a good look at it, but Sakura seemed to have the same idea. She held onto his hand, staring intently at his new, unmarred skin. Her fascination amused him. Surely she was used to seeing her own handiwork.

Unless it was something about him that fascinated her.

While her gaze still lingered on his hand, Madara brought it up to her cheek. Her eyes flew to his, and she gasped, startled by the intimate contact. Madara absently rubbed the pad of his thumb over her rosy cheek, enjoying the way she seemed to lean into his arm, her eyes glowing and pulling him in toward her.

“You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” he asked, more to himself than to her. He was enamored with the way her whole body reacted to his touch, the way she breathed more heavily and lowered her eyelids.

“Your meat…”

“Hmm?” he asked dazedly, bewitched by her sparkling eyes.

“It’s burning.”

He turned toward the fire, which now contained a spit of rather charred looking venison. Quickly, he pulled it from the fire and propped it against a nearby tree to cool.

“You distracted me,” he said accusingly.

Sakura stood up, so Madara did too. She grinned at him, and her cheeks were pleasantly flushed. “I wouldn’t have taken the great Madara Uchiha to be so easily distracted,” she laughed, and the sound did something warm and fluttering to his chest.

She reached down for her pack and pulled it up onto her shoulder.

“Going somewhere?” he asked with a raised brow.

“I’ve got blood gushing out of me,” she said pointedly. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to go take care of it privately.”

Madara watched her leave, wondering whether he should trust her on her own. He didn’t think she’d run away – that would have been counterproductive to her own goals. Still, it didn’t hurt to think critically about her now that she was gone. It was much harder to keep a cool head when she was near, making those bedroom eyes at him like that.

He wondered if she even realized the way she was looking at him sometimes. Did she understand the nature of her own stolen glances? Was it just because he reminded her of Sasuke?

The smell of venison wafted over to him, and Madara idly picked at it as he found a place to sit near the fire. It wasn’t so badly burnt that he couldn’t eat it, and he could still feel Sakura’s chakra signature nearby, so he tucked into his food. There was something comforting about eating a meal he had provided for himself – none of that fancy, paper-wrapped stuff Sakura had given him.

When Sakura finally returned, she was wearing those little spandex shorts that were hardly covered by the short, tight t-shirt she wore. Was she doing this to him on purpose?

There were other things about her to notice, too: her hair was slightly damp now, and he could smell a fresh wave of cucumber and coconut on her. Her face was red like it had been scrubbed clean, and she carried her pack in her arms, clutched tightly to her chest.

She rejoined him by the fire, leaning back against her pack as a pillow. She seemed content, and Madara liked that.

“In a good mood?” he asked her, feeling it infect him as well.

“As good as it can be with all the things I’ve currently got on my plate,” she said with a shrug.

“Oh, right, you’re important, aren’t you?” he asked. “What sorts of things to do you have on your plate? I mean besides me, of course.”

Sakura’s resulting glare was a little frostier than he expected, but she answered his question with sincerity. “News of Orochimaru’s death is big,” she explained. “I need to get that information back to Tsunade-sama immediately. That’s going to be bittersweet for her to hear.”

She narrowed her eyes on him accusingly, and Madara instinctively leaned away from her. “I can’t communicate with her directly since she believes me to be kidnapped.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warned. “I didn’t actually kidnap you.”

“Except you did,” she snapped. “Remember the whole sunburn thing?” Madara rolled his eyes. “And what about dragging me out to that dank cave?”

“That cave is not dank.”

“You used genjutsu on me like a million times.”

Madara felt rage boiling up in his lungs. Did he expect her to apologize for those things? “I’m not forcing you to be here, Sakura,” he said. “You aren’t kidnapped. You’re free to talk to your Hokage.”

Sakura shook her head with a bit of a pained expression on her face. “No, I know that,” she said. “Sorry, I just— I know this was my idea. I just wonder if this was a mistake.”

He eyed her distastefully, a little concerned. “What would have been the right thing for you to do?” he asked.

She gave an apathetic shrug. “I have no clue,” she admitted. “But now I’ve got this obligation to you to get you to Kabuto – and god knows if he even has a way to get you back to your time. If not, I wouldn’t even know where to turn next, but I couldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself. Not after the lie I told Tsunade-sama. And now Sasuke, the whole reason I decided to do this behind her back, has killed Orochimaru and fled, and all I really want to do is go find him.”

Madara stared, unable to feel any real compassion for her.

“I chose to do this for you because… because I wanted to research your eyes and curse,” she stammered, avoiding his gaze even though it lacked the Sharingan now. “I thought because you had, like, this weird attraction to me that you might let me, or at least start to trust me enough to let me eventually.”

It was hard to resist scoffing at her, and a small one managed to eke its way out of his mouth. It was brazen of her to explain her goals to him like that, especially since they weren’t exactly in his favor. It was incredibly stupid of her, but he had to hand it to her that she had a point about his attraction toward her. It was foolish of him to think that a kunoichi wouldn’t try to use that against him.

“But you drew a pretty hard line there,” she said. “We made that agreement. I don’t want you using genjutsu on me, and I mean you’re Madara fucking Uchiha. Would I even stand a chance against you if you decided you wanted to hurt me?”

“No,” Madara laughed, and she glared at him. “You wouldn’t, but you’re not as far behind as you think. I don’t know what sorts of jutsu you know, but if you were to improve your speed you’d be formidable.”

She gave him a dry look, but something about her expression told him that she took that bit of criticism to heart. Her eyes flicked over to the cat, which had moved to sit near Madara’s feet during Sakura’s absence.

Silence stretched over the two of them, punctuated by the crackling flames. Madara could hear the cat purring at his feet.

“So you’d rather be chasing down Sasuke than sitting here with me, huh?” he asked her, his eyes focused on her mouth and the way her little white teeth sank into her pillow-y lips.

She straightened herself up a little, arching her back to stretch. Madara’s eyes trailed down to her body, watching her supple breasts arch up and her shirt ride a little too high, revealing that sweet looking strip of creamy skin. She reached up for her hair and began to gather it into a messy bun.

“You’re surprisingly pleasant company, Madara-sama,” she said, “but yes, I’d rather be looking for Sasuke right now.”

Something warm burst in Madara’s chest.

“Now you decide to respect me?” he asked in good humor.

“You’ve got a big head. I know you appreciate it.”

“Don’t think your little seduction tricks will work on me,” he warned. “I know how you kunoichi think.”

“Seduction tricks!” she exclaimed. “You think I’ve been trying to seduce you? You’re the one who invited me into his bedroll, remember? And you know how dangerous that was. That’s how badly you wanted to touch me. I didn’t even have to seduce you.”

“Well, if you didn’t keep making those bedroom eyes at me and looking so damn pretty all the time—”

“If you would just stop touching me—”

“You love it when I touch you.”

Sakura clamped her mouth shut, and her red cheeks gave away what her dagger eyes tried to deny. He felt a little guilty, because she didn’t want to admit that she could possibly be attracted to him, too – especially not aloud, not here to his face. If she ever found herself capable of admitting that she did make bedrooms eyes at him, that she did very much enjoy it when he touched her, then it was alone, in the privacy of her pretty, pink head.

“You’re surprisingly good company, too, you know,” he said softly, his voice breaking the terse silence. “I’d rather be sitting here with you than on a battlefield back home.”

She glanced up at him, her expression inexplicably soft. He was beginning to learn that Sakura had quite a bit of compassion.

“I have a hard time believing a flirt like you wouldn’t enjoy some fine women in your own time,” she said, and he was pleasantly surprised to see her lips curled into a teasing smile.

“Jealous?” he teased back.

Her cheeks were still red and she was still smiling, but something about her looked a little startled. She turned her face away from him, and Madara really hated that so he scooted a little closer to her. It didn’t feel so illicit anymore to let his fingers brush dangerously close to hers. Even if she didn’t want to, she did enjoy his touch – even just the anticipation of it. He could see it in the way her pulse quickened in her neck, which was so enticingly exposed to him now that her hair was pulled up, wispy tendrils poking out at her temples.

“All the girls at the academy had a crush on Sasuke,” she said, turning to look at him. It felt unnerving to look into her eyes this closely, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. “I was definitely jealous. He didn’t seem interested in me at all, and there was this one girl, Ino, and she’s just so gorgeous. I figured Sasuke would definitely choose her over me.”

“That blonde girl from the picture?” he asked.

“What picture?” she snapped.

“The one at the bottom of your pack,” he explained, grinning a little bit. That girl was certainly stunning, but Madara couldn’t say she was more beautiful than Sakura. They were both beauties in their own ways.

“Yes,” Sakura said dryly. “That’s Ino. I was afraid Sasuke would like her, and it caused a lot of problems between us back when we were younger. Now, it’s like it never even mattered at all. She has no interest in Sasuke anymore.”

“But you still do?” Madara asked with curiosity. “So you’ve been after him for a while, then. But haven’t other men in the village expressed interest in you? How could a pretty thing like you have saved a first kiss for so long?”

“It will be worth it in the end,” she said, “if he ever loves me back.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped. “I guess I’ll just be alone forever.”

Madara grunted. “Waste of that tight little body.”

Sakura groaned with irritation, her skin flushing so prettily in the firelight. “I’m going to sleep,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.

Madara watched her get to her feet and slip inside the tent, carrying her pack in her arms.

Something kept Madara sitting in place. The fire was warm, crackling, and mesmerizing, and he was content to stare into the flames. The smell of smoke wafted to him, followed by the lingering scent of Sakura – blood and coconut.

In truth he was a little surprised by the lengths to which Sakura would go just for the crush she had on her teammate. Did he really not have any interest in her at all? If she looked at Sasuke even a little bit like the way she looked at Madara, then he wasn’t sure how Sasuke could resist her.

But Madara supposed that he didn’t know much about either Sakura or Sasuke, and their relationship was as much a mystery to him as the fact that he had somehow been propelled into the future.

He leaned forward toward the fire, trying to picture Izuna in his mind. It was hard to imagine that time was passing wherever Izuna was, but Madara wasn’t sure how all this time travel business worked. If he couldn’t figure out a way to get back home quickly enough, would time move forward without him? Would Izuna die without Madara there to protect him?

He tossed a glance back over his shoulder at the tent. Sakura was dead silent inside.

If she couldn’t help him get back to the past, then he had literally no other plan for that. Where could he go? Who could he ask for help? If not for Sakura, who clearly would rather be with a different Uchiha, then he would be aimlessly wandering, sorely lost right now.

And that just wasn’t acceptable, he thought dryly to himself. Had he been so distracted by her that he let himself forget what was at stake if he couldn’t succeed at figuring this whole thing out?

Thoughts flurried around his mind, struggling to remember everything Sakura had explained to him. They were looking for Orochimaru, who had been killed by Sasuke, but his assistant, Kabuto was someone who could potentially help. According to the Sound shinobi, no one knew where he was.

And even if they did, Madara couldn’t help but think about what Sakura had said when they first met. Travelling backwards in time was impossible.

But then how had he travelled forward?

He glanced up at the sky. The moon was nowhere in sight, but the sparkling stars scattered across the inky sky like little diamonds. It frustrated him that the moon always seemed to elude him like this. He belonged to it, he remembered, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that the moon had something to do with his being here.

With a sigh, Madara stood up and extinguished the fire. Hopefully tomorrow he and Sakura would make better progress. If not, he would cut her loose so she could chase Sasuke like she wanted. He didn’t need her help to find Kabuto, but if Kabuto didn’t, or wouldn’t help, then Sakura would be the one he wanted advice from on where to turn next.

As long as it wasn’t her Senju Hokage.

He slipped into the tent, noting Sakura’s position. She had her back turned to the tent’s opening and her breath was slow and even with sleep. He envied her that ability to fall asleep so easily as he unfurled his own bedroll and slipped inside. Maybe if Sakura joined him again sleep would come a little easier, but he wouldn’t be so foolish now. Sakura’s loyalty was not to the Uchiha clan, not to him. It was solely for Sasuke.

That was a bitter pill to swallow as he tried to fall asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Sakura had fitful dreams that night.

Madara watched her through the darkness of their shared tent, noticing each labored breath, each toss and turn. Predictably, she muttered Sasuke’s name in her sleep, and Madara had no idea why that annoyed him so much.

As the night went on, sleep eluded him. He had half a mind to slip into Sakura’s bedroll with her. Maybe her company, however dangerous, would help him fall asleep.

And maybe his would give her more peaceful dreams.

She let out a fearful moan, her head lolling to the side. What was she dreaming of that had her so frightened?

Madara inched his bedroll a little closer to hers. There was far too much distance between them in this massive tent, and it might as well have been an endless void with how disconnected it made Madara feel from her.

And though he wasn’t in a position where he should feel connected to her at all, he liked that there was now something, someone, who bound him to this time. If he ever did make it back to his time, and if nothing here changed as a result, than Sakura would remember him – not as the founder of Konoha, a historical figure, but as a man who had stolen her first kiss and shared a cozy tent with her for a week.

There was something comforting about that thought, about being just a man. Madara Uchiha was a lot of things: warlord, brother, shinobi, clan head. He was lauded as a fierce warrior, but if felt good to just be a man.

He wondered if the little pink haired beauty felt the same. Sakura Haruno, according to herself, was a lot of things, too. Apprentice to the Hokage, best medic-nin in the world, an equal third in the infamous Team Seven.

Madara bet that he could make her feel like just a woman. He knew what buttons to press, how to turn a woman on. There wasn’t anything special about that, but there was something special about Sakura, and he felt her undying love for Sasuke as a personal challenge – one he shouldn’t rise to meet. It was unwise for a multitude of reasons.

But it was with an unheard of desperation that these thoughts crashed over his mind like a wave. He knew what he should be wanting instead – a woman from his own time who could marry him and bear his children. But Sakura was here. She was pretty, prepared to be an Uchiha matriarch (though he was loathe to admit that she was not his).

Yet he had no reason to trust her or feel real affection for her.

She stirred again, this time twisting herself around in her bedroll until it tangled in her legs and trapped her arms at her sides. In her struggle against it, her eyes flew open and met Madara’s.

Silence fogged the tent, thick, unpunctuated by the noise of the woods. Sakura slowly eased herself up into a sitting position, rubbing blearily at her eyes.

“What time is it?” she asked him.

“I don’t know.”

She blinked and then clutched at her stomach. Concerned, Madara tilted his head.

“Would you mind going to get me some water?” she asked.

“For a kunoichi you need a lot of taking care of.”

Sakura blinked in his direction, and Madara kept a stoic mask in place, repressing his amused grin. And then she blinked twice, another little flutter of those lashes. He knew he must have inadvertently activated his Sharingan then he noticed the tiniest shiver go down Sakura’s spine – a sign he wouldn’t have seen were it not for his doujutsu.

But she held his gaze almost impudently, as if she knew what she might do would get her in trouble.

“Please?” she asked, batting those lashes once more. He didn’t know whether it was a trick on her part or rather that seeing her with his doujutsu made her appear more beautiful to him. He was instantly wary, but couldn’t deny the pleasant heat that flushed his body at the sight of her.

When in lieu of a response, Sakura received only his silence, she reached for a strand of her mussed hair and twisted it around her finger. “Please?” she said again.

Like lightning he was on her, straddling her tiny waist on top of her bedroll. She squeaked in surprise, though she didn’t look frightened but rather angry that he was on her like this, that his red eyes were the ones peering down at her. Her hands came up to swat his chest, but she winced in pain again and let her hands rather limply trail down his chest until Madara caught her wrists and pinned them at her sides.

“You think you can manipulate me with those eyes of yours?” he demanded.

“Just into getting me some water,” she snapped. “Damn.”

He leaned down closer to her, his gaze licking her up. She was so absolutely small beneath him. He practically swallowed her hovering over her like this, and he wondered what that must have felt like for her to be completely enveloped by him, trapped by just his body.

Yet she didn’t cower beneath him, even though he knew she didn’t like his eyes like this, and he was very threateningly glaring at her. She realized that he wouldn’t hurt her, and it hit Madara like a bucket of ice water. He sort of wanted her to cower in fear of him, because that’s what was beneficial for him in the long run.

He much preferred her like this, completely unafraid, a little angry. She made no move or struggle to get out of his grasp, and her body felt so warm with sleep that for a moment he thought he should just curl up beside her and go to sleep himself. Would she even protest? She was letting him touch her now. She had practically invited his touch with those damn lashes.

Except that she had only done that to manipulate him.

“What would you do if you were out here alone, kunoichi?” he demanded.

“I’d have no water and I’d be really sad.”

He eyed her skeptically. “Pathetic,” he said, but a grin tugged at his lips because her tactic was a little charming and he found himself increasingly susceptible to things like that.

Sakura bucked her hips up into him – her silent way of telling him to get off of her. Unfortunately, the effects left him pining for just the opposite. He pressed a hand down on her stomach, holding her still again beneath him so he could compose himself.

“I’ll get your damn water,” he muttered, unable to resist the urge to let his hand slide around her abdomen and settle at her waist. “You needy little thing.”

He got up off of her and reached for her pack where her canteen was carefully strapped. She sat up in her bedroll and smiled at him – a shit-eating, victorious grin that he couldn’t even be mad at her for because it was so damn stunning.

“Thank you,” she said, and her words sounded earnest enough.

Though he hated the idea of doing errands for her like some kind of lap dog.

He brushed that thought away as he stepped out into the night air and sniffed. It was mercifully quiet, so he could listen for the sounds of rushing water nearby. He didn’t remember passing any bodies of water, but there had to be something close by. Though the woods here weren’t exactly lush and green.

Silently, like a panther, he thought to himself, he slipped into the woods, catching the faint trickling of a nearby stream somewhere. It was farther away than he wanted to be from Sakura, but he trusted her not to leave just as she trusted him not to hurt her.

When he finally came to the stream, he filled Sakura’s canteen with its icy water and quickly began to make his way back to their camp.

It was then that he realized they were not as alone in these woods as he thought. Someone was approaching. Madara could feel the powerful chakra signature. This was someone formidable, but it was only one person, he noted thankfully.

But Sakura was unguarded, probably daydreaming about Sasuke all cozy in her tent in the middle of enemy territory where she had a high bounty on her head.

Madara quickened his pace, instinctively masking his chakra signature as he leapt high up into the trees for cover. Stealth was the best approach for now until he had gauged whether this was a friend or foe of Sakura’s.

He landed on a shadowed tree branch near the tent where both the ashy fire pit and tent’s opening were in sight. He scanned the edge of the woods, looking for any sign of an enemy. They were close by – he could feel it.

And then a shadowed figure stepped out of the trees, toeing the line where Madara’s protection seals began. He wore a long black cloak clasped his throat, and panic seized Madara’s throat when he noticed a familiar mop of dark hair.

Sakura rustled somewhere inside the tent, and then a second later she burst through the tent’s flap, pushing her wild hair out of her face. “Took you long enough,” she snapped irritably, “I was about to—”

Her words caught in her throat when instead of Madara standing before her, it was a different Uchiha entirely, the one whose name she couldn’t stop saying.

Madara leapt silently to a closer tree branch, hoping to hear what conversation would come.

“Sasuke,” Sakura breathed, and Madara knew that look – the same one she had given him when she had come out of his genjutsu and mistaken him for Sasuke. It was a look of pure, pleading, unrepressed relief. She took a step toward him, but came no closer, her head tilting as she inspected him, maybe now comparing him to Madara after having spent a couple of days with him.

“Sakura,” said Sasuke, his voice sure and strong, confident. “What are you doing here? I told you to stop coming after me.”

She opened her mouth to speak, and Madara waited with bated breath to hear what she would say, but her words caught in her throat.

“Did you come here alone?” he asked, his eyes making a quick scan around the camp. Madara’s pack sat inside the open tent, and Sakura’s was in plain view just beside it. Sasuke’s eyes narrowed and Madara felt his flare of exploratory chakra.

“I heard you killed Orochimaru,” Sakura deflected. “I’m glad to see that you’re okay. Did he injure you? Do you need healing?”

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed on her, and Madara repressed a shiver that rolled down his spine. He looked so eerily similar to Izuna.

“I don’t need your help,” he said tersely. “I’m stronger than ever now. I can finally kill Itachi, which means it’s time to permanently severe these bonds.”

Madara was confused by Sasuke’s words, but his breath hitched when Sasuke reached for the katana that was slung at his back.

“Wait, no,” Sakura pleaded, her eyes wide, glimmering in the moonlight. Startled to find white circles reflected in her eyes, Madara glanced up at the sky, which was now bearing a silver-white moon, full and round and glowing intensely bright.

“I didn’t come here for you,” Sakura said to Sasuke, holding her hands out like they would be able to stop Sasuke’s katana. And maybe they could. “I’m looking for Kabuto. Do you know where he is?”

“Why are you looking for Kabuto?”

Madara felt like this was probably where he should have made his entrance. Sakura seemed nervous and Sasuke’s hand hovered at the hilt of his katana.

“I just need his help with something I’m researching,” she said, and Madara was surprised that it wasn’t a lie at all.

Silence stretched over the woods. Madara could hear Sakura’s soft breathing, and he could even smell her blood from here. He wondered if Sasuke could smell it, too, and if he knew what it was.

“We really miss you back in Konoha,” Sakura finally said, her voice soft, angelic, so incredibly tempting. Her eyes seemed like diamonds, even at this distance, made unnaturally fair by the moon’s pale light. “If…. When you kill Itachi, we’ll be waiting for you to come home.”

Sasuke laughed and the sound was so morbidly dark that Madara inched a little closer to the two of them.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Sasuke demanded. “I’ll never be able to kill Itachi while I’m still attached to you, to Naruto, and the rest of Konoha. You mean nothing to me, do you understand?”

Madara understood then what Sakura was trying to do. He could see it plain as day that Sasuke’s curse was already manifesting itself, already destroying the relationships he had. He was so young, only seventeen, the same as Sakura. Madara, by his estimation based on the information from Sakura’s textbooks, didn’t succumb to his own curse until years later, well into his thirties.

It should have seemed hopeless to her, for her to have to hear Sasuke tell her these things, to know that he had no place in his heart for her. It must have torn her apart, but Madara couldn’t look at her face to know because his eyes was stuck on Sasuke’s hand where it had now gripped the hilt of his katana.

“You’re going to kill me?” Sakura asked, her voice soft and frightened as Sasuke unsheathed his katana.

Madara hated her sudden weakness, but he realized it for what it was – a distraction. He knew she had more sense of self-preservation than that, and she wouldn’t just let Sasuke kill her without putting up a fight.

“I’ll make it painless,” Sasuke said, though somehow it didn’t seem like much of a consolation to Madara.

And Madara had no intention of allowing Sasuke to lay a finger on her, so the second the katana was fully unsheathed, Madara stood between them, his arm stretched out protectively over Sakura’s chest.

Sasuke’s shock was immediately. Recognition crashed harshly over his face, his eyes widened and he lowered the katana to his side.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he asked a little breathlessly, his eyes traveling the length of Madara’s body as if the answers were somehow hidden there if he only looked hard enough.

Madara, too, was a little stunned by Sasuke’s appearance up close. The resemblance to Izuna was remarkable, but now Madara could see their differences plain as day. This was not his brother, and there was something unsettling about seeing him, about knowing that the fate of the Uchiha clan rested in this little brat’s hands if Madara was unable to change things back in his own time.

It only made him more desperate to get back home and fix things.

Madara passed Sakura’s canteen back into her hands, letting his fingers brush reassuringly against hers. He wasn’t going to let Sasuke hurt her – not while he still needed her help. Even if he didn’t need her help, he would find himself hard-pressed not to come to her aid now.

“Get back in the tent, Sakura,” he said to her lowly, his eyes never leaving Sasuke’s face.

“It’s okay, Madara, I can handle this on my own,” she said, and Madara resisted the temptation to glance at her over his shoulder.

“I’m sure you can, Sunflower, but it would give me peace of mind if you’d just let me handle it,” he said quietly, though it was unavoidable that Sasuke should hear.

And Sasuke’s eyebrows flew up in surprise, no doubt concerned that his teammate was cavorting with an impossibly young Madara Uchiha.

“Seriously?” Sakura demanded. “This has nothing to do with you. Why don’t you get back in the tent?”

Her impertinence sent an illicit thrill wracking through his body, but it also made that cloud of dark rage simmer up into his head, and he wanted so badly to turn around and grab her by both arms and just shake her until she would listen. Did she not understand that there was an incredibly powerful opponent before her, just itching to kill her?

“What the hell is going on here?” Sasuke asked. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“And you’re supposed to be back in Konoha, filling some lucky womb with little Uchiha seeds, but here you are, trying to kill your baby maker and running off looking for other Uchihas to kill,” Madara snapped, and he wasn’t sure where all those thoughts came pouring out of, but once they came, Madara realized he had an immense hatred for this Sasuke. He was petulant, cruel, stupid, and lacked the reasoning to understand that the best thing he could do for his clan was to go home and marry a good, strong woman like Sakura.

Sakura’s hands tugged on Madara’s arm, but he batted them away, albeit with a far gently touch than he normally would have.

“Madara, please don’t interfere with this stuff,” she begged. “We don’t know what kind of effect your presence has here, and it’s best to limit the—”

“How are you alive?” Sasuke asked, interrupting Sakura. “What do you want with me?”

Madara gave him a roving, pitying glance. “I don’t want anything with you,” he sneered, but then he remembered that Sakura did want something from Sasuke, though at this point it seemed impossible that she would get her wish.

And it felt a lot like heartbreak to know that.

“What are your plans to restore your clan?” Madara demanded, meeting Sasuke’s cool gaze.

Sasuke’s jaw clenched and unclenched, and Madara could tell that he was growing tired of not having any answers. “Killing Itachi is my only plan,” he said tersely. “I can think of nothing else until that goal is accomplished.”

“Fucking lot of good that will do you,” Madara said, and he could feel Sakura’s tiny fingers tightening around his arm. “So you kill your brother, then what? Had I not been here, you’d have killed the only woman capable of helping you restore the Uchiha clan to its former glory.”

Sasuke’s eyes drifted from Madara’s face to Sakura’s, and his stare was disbelieving. “Sakura isn’t the only girl who can bear children,” he said coolly.

“Then you won’t mind if I hang onto her for a little longer.”

“Just what is it that you want with her?” Sasuke demanded, tightening his grip on his katana.

“That’s why we’re looking for Kabuto,” Sakura said, and she was standing close enough behind Madara that he could feel her breath on the back of his arm “We’re trying to—”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sasuke snapped, and Madara bristled. He was itching for a fight now, spurred by this weird protectiveness he felt over Sakura, by the way he felt a little jealous of Sasuke because of the selfless and endless way she seemed to love him, because how could anyone love this guy?

“Don’t speak to her like that,” Madara warned.

Sasuke’s brows raised at this, and he let his gaze flick suspiciously between Madara and Sakura. “What are you two doing together out here?”

“Our business is none of your concern,” Madara said coolly, though he was dying to tell the little brat that when he did what he set out to accomplish and actually made it back to his own time, he would fix the Uchiha clan and make sure they its future never fell into Sasuke’s hands.

As if rising to Madara’s challenge, Sasuke glanced at Sakura and gave her a knowing smirk

“His presence here concerns me,” he said to her, jerking his chin towards Madara, “but I cannot deal with that right now. I have a lead on where Itachi is, and I need a team to help me track him down.”

Sakura stiffened behind Madara, and he did not like where this was going.

“I’d appreciate if you came with me, Sakura,” Sasuke said. “I could use a medic of your caliber.”

Madara’s heart constricted for a millisecond.

“But you just threatened to kill me.”

A tense silence stretched over the camp. A cloud swept looming across the sky to pass over the moon and cast darkness over the wood. All the color seemed to drain from the world, excluding Sakura’s pink hair and green eyes, and two sets of whirling red Sharingan.

“You’re only asking me this because he’s here,” she said, moving forward to stand beside Madara.

He fought the instinct to push her back behind him. Sasuke was far too deeply effected by the curse already, and there was something just off about his chakra signature that he couldn’t understand. There was no way Sakura would be safe with him.

“I am not asking.”

Madara reached for Sasuke’s collar, the feeling of rage and possessiveness and disgust lurching up into his head, harsh like the fall of a hammer.

But Sakura’s cool fingers were on his wrist and though that alone wouldn’t have been enough to stop him, but the feeling of her chakra was. It sent a calming, cooling sensation rapidly through every muscle in his body.

“Madara, please don’t kill him,” she begged in a whisper, slipping her fingers into his as she continued to funnel her chakra into him.

He didn’t fight it. He couldn’t feel her chakra in his head, though he sort of wished that he could since it ached. It just lingered in his muscles, loosening tenseness he hadn’t even been aware was there.

Sasuke scoffed, and Sakura moved to stand between him and Madara. To Madara’s great amusement, she slid into a defensive stance.

“I know it looks odd,” she began, “but I do have business to attend to with Uchiha-sama—” A delighted shiver rolled down Madara’s spine. “—so unfortunately I can’t go with you. I’d explain to you the details of it, but I know that you have something really important to do first. Why don’t you go do that, and if you come back I’ll explain everything to you. Then maybe we can break these bonds like you wanted.”

If it were not for his doujutsu, Madara might have missed the nearly imperceptible way that Sasuke’s lips parted before they pressed together, the tiniest glimpse of the shock Madara was delighted to see him feel. His brow furrowed in anger, but he sheathed his katana. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered.

He leapt into the trees, and Madara kept a close eye on him, prepared for an attack. But as he landed on a large branch, Sasuke turned to look at Madara, his pinwheel eyes spinning.

“When I’m finished avenging my family, I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he said.

Madara had no chance to respond before Sasuke was gone, his odd chakra signature disappearing into the wood. He wanted to give chase. He had some strange instinct to kill him. He was infected and dangerous.

But then Sakura’s arms were around him and her little head was pressed against his chest. “Thank you,” she said, and were she a little taller he might have pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

“I wasn’t going to kill him,” he said with a scowl, palming the back of her head so he could tilt her face up to look at her. He wasn’t all too surprised to see tears on her cheeks – the poor emotional little thing.

“I know,” she said, though she couldn’t have possibly known that Madara had fought every instinct to kill him. “I meant for the water.”

She let go of him and reached for the canteen she had dropped into the grass at some point. She took a big swig and then went back into the tent.

A little unsettled, Madara followed her inside. “That’s the guy you’re so in love with?” he demanded, but his harsh tone fell out of his mouth when he saw her curled into a ball on her bedroll, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Oh, come on now, there’s no need to cry,” he said, lingering awkwardly near the opening of the tent.

“He wants to kill me,” she said and Madara was surprised by the steadiness of her tone. “He really thinks killing me is the best thing for him. And he offered me the one thing I ever wanted from him, and I had to turn it down.”

“For my sake?” Madara asked.

“No, for mine,” she said. “Even if he actually wanted me to come with him, he’d kill me the second I became too troublesome.”

“Nah, he’d probably just use genjutsu on you,” Madara teased, trying to lighten the mood. “You can’t resist looking at these eyes.”

As if to prove the opposite, Sakura avoided his gaze by rubbing at her wet eyes. With a sigh, she uncurled herself and slid down into her bedroll. “It really doesn’t help that I’m so hormonal right now,” she muttered to herself and turned her back to him so she could fall asleep.

And even though he didn’t want to, Madara rolled over and went to sleep, too.

///


	14. Chapter 14

Madara couldn’t sleep, and it was apparent that neither could Sakura. She shook and rattled with tears, though he could tell she was doing her best to suppress them. If he had known how to comfort her, he might have. He understood that she was upset, and he was upset, too.

But he didn’t know what to do about it. Sasuke was now a major concern, but it couldn’t be settled now. Madara had no choice but to find this Kabuto first and make sure there was a way to get home before he tried to meddle in a future that he might be stuck in forever.

And until then, all he could do was wait until morning.

“It’s really creepy when you just stare at me like that.”

Madara’s gaze refocused and he realized he had drifted off while looking in her direction.

He probed outward with his chakra, checking for signs of life around them before he deactivated his Sharingan. She was already shaking like a leaf and he hated to add to her anxiety.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to get me water.”

“What?” he asked, bemused.

“I don’t need someone to take care of me. I was just being lazy,” she said. “I used you because I knew I could.”

Madara laughed. “Is that so?” he asked. “You think I’m a puppet on your string?”

“Well, no.” She blushed.

Sakura’s face sobered, and Madara’s followed suit.

“Do you think you can save him?” Madara asked, and though he knew the answer was no, she couldn’t, he wanted to know if she believed that she could.

She sucked in a deep, patient breath and closed her eyes. He sensed that she was reigning in anger, though she didn’t let any of it crease her stoic features. “I don’t know if I can save Sasuke,” she said. “But if I can save him, then I can save your clan, regardless of whether or not Sasuke comes back to Konoha. If I can figure out the secrets of your family’s curse, then I can make sure no future Uchiha has to endure all this pain and suffering that Sasuke is feeling.”

Madara blinked, trying not to get distracted by the dark circles under her eyes. He knew she needed to sleep, but now he was curious.

“And you care so much about that because you hoped those children would be yours, too,” he accused.

She shrugged apathetically, but Madara saw through it. “Sasuke has been through a lot,” she said. “He’s worth saving, even if I have to crawl into the darkness and drag him out by myself. Your clan is worth saving. The Uchihas aren’t what Tobirama said at all; he just didn’t understand an affliction when he saw one.”

He stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to address his real question.

“Yes, I had hoped that those children would be mine,” she said after a beat of silence. “And of course I want what’s best for them. I’d want to know as much information as possible about the curse and the Sharingan and their connection to the brain so I could be prepared to handle the kinds of problems that have historically plagued your clan.”

Madara took in a breath, trying to collect his thoughts. Sasuke was too far gone – he would never allow Sakura to study his eyes for the information she was looking for, and the only other Uchiha in existence was his older brother Itachi.

And that did Sakura no good when Sasuke was on his way to kill Itachi at this very moment.

But Madara was here, and his curse hadn’t effected yet. She had the capabilities to study him now if he would only consent to it, which he very determinedly had not.

“Is that why you changed your mind about wanting to help me?” he asked. “Did you think I’d come around and let you study my eyes?”

To his surprise, Sakura nodded solemnly. “I knew if I told Tsunade-sama that she would, uhh, well, not be too pleased by your presence here and would probably try to have you locked up while she figured the situation out. She certainly wouldn’t want you running around loose, and maybe I’m the fool for trusting that you don’t have dark intentions here.”

“Dark intentions?” he asked, canting his head. “I just want to get home so I can protect Izuna from dying at Tobirama’s hand. That’s my topmost priority.”

Sakura canted her head, too, as if she hadn’t expected that short burst of personal information.

“It’s not her Senju bias, by the way,” Sakura said. “Tsunade-sama has afforded so much leniency to Sasuke it’s ridiculous. But you don’t have a great reputation in Konoha, even though the you that you are now hasn’t… you know, isn’t that you yet. Hence why, umm, when I noticed that you didn’t seem to want to kill me, I thought this would be my best chance to see a pre-curse Uchiha up close. An-and in a way I was protecting you from the village’s prejudice against you.”

“And protecting the village from the big, bad villain, right?”

“And,” she said dramatically, drying the dwindling tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand, “gaining academic recognition for the ground-breaking research I’ll do on one of the world’s most powerful kekkei genkai.”

“If you manage to work out a cure,” he said skeptically.

“Right,” she agreed, eyeing him pointedly. “If I can work on a cure.”

“And if you did manage to work out a cure,” he continued, “then you’d marry your childhood crush, the clan head of one of the most powerful clans in the world, and you’d raise his incredibly powerful children whilst basking in the glow and praise of your academic achievements, and moving on from your apprenticeship with the Hokage, you’ll soon become Hokage’s wife as the Senju steps down and your husband, Sasuke Uchiha takes her place.”

Sakura cracked a grin, though her cheeks reddened and she tucked her hair behind her ear demurely. “Well, I don’t know about all of that,” she said.

“If I can’t fix this when I go back to my time, then that’s the best possible future for the Uchiha clan, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes, exactly!” she agreed enthusiastically. “I just wish Sasuke could see that.”

“Yes, it would be nice if he did,” Madara agreed, “but hindsight…”

He stared at her for a moment, a little breath-taken by how her eyes seemed to sparkle more that usual while glistening with stale tears. That did sound like an appealing future, he thought, were he to exchange Sasuke’s name for his own. There was no desire greater in him, in fact, than to claim a new, better future like that one – one where he was Hokage of his village, and he had a powerful kunoichi of a wife like Sakura on his arm.

It would have been so easy to steal such a future now, he dreamed. He could take Sasuke’s place – kill him and take his identity for himself. He’d marry Sakura, become Hokage, have everything he could ever want.

“If I could just find a way to fix the curse…”

Madara’s gaze flicked to hers – he realized it had drifted to her shoulder where somehow a teardrop had fallen and clung so her skin like a little glowing bead in the darkness.

“You want to study me,” he said. “I understand that, but I don’t know how far to trust you. You might have dark intentions, too, for all I know.”

She seemed confused by this, as if the very idea of having dark intentions was foreign to her. “Like what?”

“You could be planning to kill me to save your village from the hassle of having to deal with me,” he said. “I might let you into my brain only for you to sever my brainstem or however it is you do it with those magic fingers of yours.”

The corner of her mouth twitched with a smile. “I don’t want to kill you,” she said. “As far as I’m aware, you’re the sanest Uchiha in existence right now, and whether you stay here and let me study you, or you go back in time and you fix the mess that is your clan, either way you’re still far more useful alive.”

Madara grunted, begrudgingly amused by the idea of being useful to her.

“I don’t think you want to kill me, either,” she said, perfectly correct in her assumption. “You’re kind of just like a regular guy.”

“I’m not regular,” he insisted.

“I hope that you’ll at least let me take a look at your head at some point,” she mused, “but even if you don’t, I won’t regret choosing to help you. You’re no different than Sasuke, really. Honestly, you’re better company than Sasuke, at least right now.”

“Well, that’s not really hard, is it?” Madara asked dryly. “He may look like Izuna, but they are absolutely nothing alike.”

Sakura seemed to perk up at the mention of his brother, her head tilting curiously to the side. Madara cracked a grin, glad to see she had completely stopped crying. Neither of them could sleep, and if it made her forget about Sasuke for a minute, then he supposed he could tell her about his brother.

“What was he like?” she asked.

Madara, who had purposefully placed his bedroll far closer to hers this time, grinned as he leaned a little closer to her, lying on his side to face her.

Sakura, who didn’t seem to mind that Madara was so near to her now that his body sort of loomed over hers, laid her head back down and closed her eyes, and there was a faint ghost of a grin on her face, too.

“He was fiercely loyal,” Madara said softly, “a lot like you in that way. He would die defending our clan.”

A beat of silence filled the air in the tent. Madara contented himself with the sound of her breathing. “He will,” Sakura murmured, her eyes still closed.

Madara repressed a shiver. “He really looked up to me,” he continued. “He always wanted to train with me and get stronger. And we did. We grew alongside of one another, always in competition. We lost all of our younger brothers, so I felt very protective of him. That’s why I need to get back to my time.”

He thought of the moon and its unnatural fullness earlier. It was hard to remember the last time he had seen Izuna, and it made him feel angry at the moon for some reason.

“You’re a good brother,” she said, her voice velvety soft. Madara leaned a little closer. “I wonder what will happen if you go back,” she mused. “I wonder if you save your brother, if that will somehow change how the village is founded. Maybe Konoha as I know it won’t exist. Maybe I won’t even exist.”

“Or maybe,” Madara said, “going back will create two different timelines, this one and the new future I create.”

“Tell me about this perfect future you’re going to create,” she said.

She inched a little closer to him, her eyes still closed. They were puffy from crying, but she still looked stunning so close in the night’s unusual brightness.

“I’ll start by making sure Izuna lives,” he began, indulging Sakura in her questions, and himself in their answers. “Of course I’ll help found the village, though perhaps Hashirama won’t have to defeat me this time for that to happen. And when it does, I’ll make sure that I’m chosen as first Hokage.”

“Hashirama-sama was a fine Hokage,” Sakura said, her voice slurring sleepily.

“I’m sure,” Madara murmured. “I’ll be a fine one, too. And I’ll have a fine kunoichi as my wife, and we’ll ensure that the Uchiha bloodline remains pure and strong. We’ll have at least ten children.”

“Ten, wow,” Sakura said, blinking those beautiful eyes open to look at him. “That’s a lot of children. You’d better find a young bride.”

“Beautiful, too,” he added, “and charming because the Uchiha clan could apparently have a little more charm in the gene pool.”

“You’re pretty charming, Madara,” she said softly, and her eyes were closed again.

Madara closed his eyes then, too, and smiled. He did feel a little charming when he was around Sakura. The fact that she was sitting here with him, so close their breaths were mingling between them, instead of with Sasuke, made Madara felt a surge of affection for Sakura.

It may not have meant much – Sasuke was still her goal in the long run – but it felt nice to rank a little higher than Sasuke on her list of priorities for now.

“You’re pretty charming, Sakura,” he echoed softly.

Her lilting breaths were her only reply.

///

Madara slept well again. It came as more of a shock this time, as they were both still in their individual bedrolls, but Sakura’s head was pressed against his shoulder. Her body had inched closer to his, though they still were not touching. He was certain that she had been the one to move closer. He lacked the restraint not to completely press himself against her.

He took a moment to enjoy her contentedness.

It lasted one second.

She squealed in surprise and scrambled away from him, tangling herself in her bedroll as she practically fled to the other side of the tent.

“Oh, come on now,” Madara said, eyeing her with a look of disapproval. “I’m not that repulsive.”

She eyed him warily, drawn to the way his arms were still beneath the cover of his bedroll. If she realized that it was she who had moved closer to him, she made no note of it (though the redness on her cheeks told Madara enough).

“You know damn well I don’t find you repulsive,” she snapped.

“Is that because I remind you of a certain other Uchiha you know?” he asked, grinning lazily at her.

She gave him a dry look as they both began to break down camp. When they were back on the road again, packs slung over their shoulders, Sakura glanced back at their torn-down campsite.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her, displeased by the sad furrow of her brow.

“The cat’s gone,” she murmured. “Sasuke must have scared him away.”

“He’s better off without us,” Madara said.

“But I saved his life. He’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

“Oh, I meant we’re better off without him.”

She tossed him a look that he wasn’t quite able to interpret, but he grinned wolfishly at her nonetheless. If they had run into Sasuke yesterday, then that meant they must be getting close. And now, without that damn cat to slow them down, they could make good progress today.

“Come on, Sunflower, I’m going to help you improve your abysmal speed.”

She made an offended noise with her throat, but before she could snap back Madara was already leaping into the trees.

“Keep up if you can,” he called to her over his shoulder, his grin wide.

He broke into a sprint, not quite at his full speed. Wind and leaves whipped against his face, through his hair. Behind him he could sense Sakura in pursuit.

It felt good to run. It was cathartic. There was something peaceful about it. He wasn’t running from anything, and even though he was running to something, it wasn’t a danger or a tragedy. It was hope – an urgent one, but hope nonetheless.

Madara whipped through the trees, reaching out with his chakra to search for wherever Sakura had been trying to take him. This Kabuto guy must be around here somewhere, and the thrill of hunting him down awakened something very primal in Madara. He couldn’t say that there had been nothing thrilling about spending the last couple of days in a tent with Sakura, but there was an equal amount of thrill in determinedly working toward his goal.

The sun’s dappled light shone through the tree branches, warming Madara’s skin. The woods, which had felt like a dead, cold void so far, suddenly felt full of life and color. The tomoe of his Sharingan whirled in his eyes, soaking in everything there was to see in the Sound woods.

Grey pines, spindly branches, soft but sparse grass beneath his feet. It was so different from Fire Country, but it somehow felt the same. It felt good, like he could belong here if he tried.

Twigs snapped behind him, and he felt the distance between him and Sakura widening. He glanced back over her shoulder and could just barely see her head of pretty, pink hair.

“Come on, Sunflower,” he murmured under his breath. “You can do better than that.” He wasn’t even at his full speed.

It was then that he felt another chakra signature come into range. It definitely belonged to a shinobi, though Madara decided it couldn’t have been something to worry too deeply about. It felt stilted and damaged, fluttering in and out of life as he probed it with his own chakra.

He slowed down and hopped up into the trees for cover while he surveyed the situation. He quickly masked his chakra, dedicating a small part of his brain to keeping tabs on Sakura’s location. She was starting to catch up now that he had stopped.

Through the trees, he heard some rustling and indistinct chatter. He followed the sound, silently weaving his way through the branches and leaves. He found not one, but two shinobi nearby, their voices carrying to him in the silence of the woods.

Trusting that Sakura would be able to catch up to him on her own, he came even closer to them, parting the leafy branches in his way so he could peer down at the two shinobi.

One of them, Madara recognized instantly as a member of the Kaguya clan. His scarlet forehead dots and zigzag parted hair gave him away. Madara realized that the Kaguya’s kekkei genkai was a powerful one, though he had never met any of them that were strong enough to unlock it.

He was slumped against the other shinobi, a bespectacled white-haired Sound-nin, who held him up with hands alit with chakra. Just like Sakura’s, Madara realized.

Neither of them looked fit to fight right now, but that meant nothing to Madara. Either of them could have been powerful shinobi, and he needed to gauge their skill before he could surmise whether or not he could take on the both of them.

Blood pooled between their bodies, staining their white clothing. It must have been the Kaguya’s, because the other one looks to be in fine health, though Madara could tell that he was suffering from mild chakra exhaustion.

Sakura’s chakra signature burst into Madara’s mind like a flash of lightning. She was close now, and she was looking for him.

But the flare of chakra also alerted the two shinobi he was spying on to her presence. The medic lifted his head, his eyes hidden by the glare of his glasses. “Seriously?” Madara heard him ask with disbelief.

Curious to see how the confrontation might go, and prepared to jump in to Sakura’s defense should he need to, Madara sat back on his heels to watch.

Sakura’s bobbing pink head bounded through the trees, her chakra signature flaring with impatience as she searched for Madara. She recognized that they were no longer alone, though, and he saw her path veer toward the two Sound shinobi with no inhibitions. She must have not have been frightened of them, though Madara understood that they were still in enemy territory.

“You’re too late, Sakura,” the medic called out to her as she entered their clearing. “Sasuke is long gone.”

“I know,” she said. “I passed him.”

Her eyes dipped down to the bloodied Kaguya. “I thought he was dead,” she said, but not without some compassion.

The medic looked up at her, and Madara had a feeling that the two of them knew each other pretty well.

“Well, if you’re not here to save your precious Sasuke, then what the fuck are you doing all the way out here in Sound?” he demanded.

Sakura took a moment to glance around her surrounding. Her chakra flared again, and Madara leaned a little farther back into his cover, not ready to make his presence known just yet.

“I need your help with something,” she said, though her eyes were still darting around the wood.

The medic scoffed. The Kaguya in his arms was beginning to lose consciousness, his blood loss too much. The medic seemed unconcerned with him now, and he let the man’s body slump into the grass as he got to his feet.

He raised a brow in Sakura’s direction, a silent, impatient question.

“First of all, I’d like to give you my condolences,” Sakura said.

The medic held up a hand to stop her. “Save it,” he said. “Just get to the point.”

Her eyes drifted back to the Kaguya and her eyes widened in such a way that Madara believed she may have just had an idea.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked. The medic seemed highly annoyed by the question.

“Sakura, I’m really not in the mood for this right now,” the medic snapped. “Tell me what you want or go the fuck away.”

Madara tensed, ready to come to her aid.

“What do you know about time travel?” she asked. “Were there any experiments that you or Orochimaru worked on pertaining to traveling backwards through time?”

Realizing that this must have been the Kabuto guy she had been talking about, Madara’s ears perked up.

Kabuto laughed, dusting the blood and grime from his hands. “Sakura, dear, you and I both know traveling backward through time is impossible. Forward, maybe, but that would require a lot of research and development. Decades of it, most likely. Why? You trying to go back and prevent Sasuke from leaving Konoha?”

Sakura scowled at him, but they all knew that it was at least a little bit true. She may not have wanted to go back herself, but she put her faith in Madara to change the past. She didn’t have any other choice.

“What about summoning contracts?” she asked, ignoring his questions. “They bend space and time to effectively bring two beings closer together in an instant. Is it possible to manipulate such a contract in a way that would allow a person to travel backwards?”

Kabuto tilted his head, intrigued by the idea. “I suppose if there was a person who had a contract with a summons from the past, and the person was summoned to them, that it may be possible,” he mused, “but we can’t know for sure. In order to test that theory, we’d have to create a summoning contract now and wait until the future to test it out.”

“But that would take too much time.”

His eyes narrowed on her, and he took a step toward her. Madara inched forward on his branch.

Sakura’s eyes lingered on the bloodied Kaguya in the grass. He was no longer breathing. She didn’t look away until Kabuto was standing just a few inches on front of her. Madara could no longer see his face, but he could still see Sakura’s, and he was pleased to see that when she looked up at Kabuto again, her eyes were blazing with determination.

“What is it that you’re trying to do?” he asked her, though Madara had to strain his ears to hear the quietly whispered question.

“I’m—”

Before she could say anything else, Madara darted across the clearing to stand between them. He pushed Sakura back behind his back protectively, though that was more instinct than actual need to protect her. Kabuto’s eyes widened so drastically that Madara thought they might pop out of his head, and it amused him greatly.

“She’s trying to help me,” he said to the medic, watching his eyes dip down to a safer point somewhere on Madara’s neck.

“Madara, what the fuck?” Sakura indelicate voice asked from behind him. “You can’t just run off like tha—”

“I can,” he interrupted, trying not to grin at her ire. Now was not the time. “But maybe if your speed was a little better, you wouldn’t have lost me.”

Sakura scoffed, but Madara kept his eyes focused on the medic in front of him.

“Is this some kind of jutsu?” Kabuto asked Sakura, though his eyes stayed on Madara’s neck, his body tensed into a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap. “What is the meaning of this?”

Madara snapped his fingers. “Hey,” he said sharply, and right on cue, the medic looked up into his eyes. “I don’t like when people waste my time, so why don’t you just tell me everything you know about time travel?”

Remembered the dangers of looking into those eyes, Kabuto quickly looked away again, but this time his eyes went to Sakura, who had moved to stand beside Madara.

“I don’t know anything,” he said. “Time travel has never been of any interest to me.” His eyes roved over Madara’s body. “Though I can’t help but be a little intrigued now.”

Impatiently, Madara crossed his arms. “Is there any merit to Sakura’s summoning contract idea?” he demanded.

“You were listening the whole time?” Sakura demanded.

“I wouldn’t know,” Kabuto said to Madara. “It would require a lot of testing and research. A lot of time.”

Now Madara was annoyed. Their one lead knew absolutely nothing useful.

“What about Orochimaru?” Sakura asked. “Is there anything he might have researched himself? Something he didn’t tell you about?”

“Well, if he didn’t tell me, then how would I know?” Kabuto sneered.

Madara took a threatening step forward.

“Why don’t you just take us to where Orochimaru conducted his experiments, and we’ll find out for ourselves?” he suggested, though it sounded far more like a demand.

The medic looked like he wanted to contest this. He tilted his head down, using the glare on his glasses to hide his eyes again. Clever.

“If I refuse?” he asked.

“Then I guess I’ll kill you.”

///


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is late. My bad, guys.

The medic proved to be a lot more cooperative than Madara expected. In fact, he was far more cooperative than even Sakura had been.

He took them through the woods, not daring to glance back at them over his shoulder. He was silent, though his body was tensed and poised to attack at a moment’s notice. Madara briefly wondered about this man’s fighting skills and whether or not he knew the same kinds of tricks that Sakura did.

Sakura, bleeding heart that she was, had refused to leave without hefting that damn Kaguya up onto her shoulders and bringing him along. Kabuto had tried to convince her that he was a lost cause, but she wasn’t having it.

And since it didn’t seem to slow her down, Madara allowed it, though he was not all that pleased to see another man’s body – even an unconscious one – pressed against hers so intimately. It leaked blood down the front of her chest, little rivers that left awful stains in their wake. He hated it.

Luckily it took no time at all for them to reach their location – an underground bunker with an impressively solid metal hatch. Madara was wary as Kabuto lifted the hatch open and dusted off his hands.

“Enter at your own risk,” he warned. “With Orochimaru-sama’s death, Sound is rife with lawlessness, and this is essentially ground zero. Any work he might have had on time travel is down here, though I doubt you’ll find much.”

Madara did not like the sound of that, nor did he like the smirking arrogance that tweaked at the corners of Kabuto’s mouth.

“What about information on Kimimaro’s kekkei genkai?” Sakura asked. “You were trying to take him with you, right? You’ve been taking care of him this whole time. You must have some research on the Kaguya clan.”

Kabuto gave her a dry look. “I told you he’s a lost cause.”

“Forget about the Kaguya,” Madara said to her. “We have better things to worry about.”

Though she was gentle with his body, her movements were clearly annoyed as she pulled him down off her shoulders and set him in the grass near the bunker’s door. “So you’re the only person who deserves my help?” she demanded, her hands on her hips in a show of some very sassy insubordination. 

He didn’t know whether he deserved all of her help, or more relevantly, all of her attention. He knew he wanted it, and that was enough.

“Why do you want to help him so badly, anyway?” Kabuto asked, saving Madara from having to answer her. “He’s your enemy, remember?”

And then, as if remembering who she had arrived to ask for his help with, Kabuto’s gaze drifted to Madara. He held the medic’s gaze disapprovingly.

“Kimimaro is the last living member of the Kaguya clan,” she said, “and he’s so much more powerful than his predecessors. Leaving him to die means losing his kekkei genkai forever.”

“Since when do you care about that?” Kabuto asked, and Madara couldn’t help but be interested in this line of questioning.

Sakura said nothing, though her jaw was clenched tightly. Madara’s gaze was caught on the rivulets of Kaguya blood that ran down her chest, dipping between her breasts and down into that little red vest.

“Is that your type?” Kabuto asked, the barest hint of a grin on his face. “You love that tragic, lonely, powerful, last-one-of-his-kind type?”

She scoffed derisively, rolling her eyes. “I know it’s hard for you to understand since you’ve never felt love or compassion for anyone in your life,” she began, “but he’s worth saving.”

Madara blinked, recalling her say similar words about Sasuke. “Is he, though?” he asked her. “The Kaguyas are just a bunch of bloodthirsty savages.”

“Yeah, well, so are the Uchihas.”

Madara felt Kabuto’s gaze come back to him as if he expected him to be angry about the jab. There was something under his skin now, but he didn’t think it was her blasé comment.

“I’m telling you, Sakura, he’s a lost cause,” Kabuto said. “I wouldn’t leave his body with you if I wasn’t certain of that. There’s just so much missing information about his clan and his kekkei genkai. I don’t know how to heal him.”

She glared at him suspiciously. “One of the reasons I’m so much better than you at medical ninjutsu is that I don’t give up so easily,” she said tersely.

Madara let out a bark of laughter, highly amused by Kabuto’s reddened face and Sakura’s smug expression.

“Fine,” Kabuto snapped. “Give it your best go. Good luck.” He tossed her a dry, heated glare and then leap off back into the woods. Madara watched him leave, careful to keep an eye out for any deceit or trickery on his part. He had essentially left them here with no clue what they were about to get themselves into, and Madara wasn’t sure if it was wise to let him go after he had seen his face. He had obviously recognized Madara for who he was.

“I fucking hate that guy,” Sakura mumbled under her breath, arranging the Kaguya’s body so that it was in a more comfortable position.

“Should I kill him?” Madara asked, his fingers already itching with the desire to hunt.

“He’s more useful to us alive,” she said. “He’s not the best medic in the world, but he’s really fucking smart. We may need more help from him yet.”

“But he knows that I’m here.”

“Trust me,” Sakura said. “He won’t tell anyone. He has no one left to tell.”

Madara wasn’t so certain about that, but he supposed he should trust Sakura’s judgment for now. She began to climb the steps down into the bunker, pausing for a moment to tuck her hair behind her ear and look up at him.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

He glanced toward the trees in the direction Kabuto had just gone. He didn’t feel right abut letting him go.

Sakura cleared her throat, and he looked back at her. He lost himself again in the blood on her chest that was drying now, staining her skin with pink stripes. Sakura noticed his gaze and narrowed her eyes, but then when she glanced down at her chest, she realized what he had been staring at and wiped at the blood with the palm of her hand.

“Come on,” she insisted, probably too scared to go down into the bunker by herself.

And Madara didn’t blame her. He followed her down the ladder, and couldn’t help the deep chill that rattled his bones.

///

Once they were down in the bunker, Madara grew more nervous about leaving Kabuto alive. He just couldn’t put his trust in either Sakura or Kabuto. It was too risky.

“I only have one flashlight,” Sakura said with dismay as she dug through her pack in search of something else suitable.

Madara shook his head. “I don’t need it,” he said, tapping his temple with one finger. His Sharingan began to spin – it was hard to miss the way Sakura took a step back away from him.

“Right,” Sakura said. “Well then let’s split up. I’ll go this way.” She pointed down the better lit corridor to their left, and Madara nodded with approval. He couldn’t sense anything nearby with his chakra, and she was adept as a kunoichi. She would be safe for now.

“You can go down that dark creepy hall over there,” she suggested, jerking her thumb toward the corridor to their right. He glanced down the hall to see that it was practically identical to the other one save for the fact that for some reason the lights had gone out. It made little difference to Madara.

“Fine,” he agreed. “Split up to cover more ground. We’ll look for any information about time travel. But, well, I don’t know exactly what I should be looking for.”

“I don’t either,” she admitted. “Good luck.”

She gave him a gentle wave of her fingers and then turned to walk down the hall. Madara watched her until she disappeared into a door, and then began to climb the ladder back up out of the bunker.

He couldn’t leave Kabuto alive. It left too much to chance, not enough in Madara’s control.

The medic had been covered in the Kaguya’s blood, which was easy enough to scent out now that he’d been exposed to it for so long. He quickly darted off into the trees, following the scent of blood and the faint chakra trail he had left behind.

It took only moments to catch up with him. He was walking with a leisurely enough pace, though as Madara neared him through the cover of leaves, he noticed that it was actually melancholic. He walked as though he were wilting, and it made Madara even more inclined to just put him out of his misery.

He crept even closer, wondering the best way to kill him quickly and efficiently so he could get back to Sakura.

A rustling noise in the trees caught his attention. Both he and Kabuto snapped their gazes to the brush, where a familiar black cat emerged. It looked at Kabuto and blinked, tail swishing like a whip. Then it looked over to Madara, and held his gaze for an unnerving second.

Kabuto cocked his head and then glanced in Madara’s direction.

Less than a second later, Madara had charged through the woods like a strike of lightning, caught Kabuto by his skull, and twisted it to snap his neck and sever his brain stem.

He released his head and let Kabuto’s unconscious body heap itself in the grass near his feet. His gaze flicked dryly to the cat, who was now purring and rubbing against Madara’s legs.

“You’re an annoying little thing, aren’t you?”

///

There wasn’t much to find in the bunker. If there had been any useful information in there at all, it had been destroyed in the wake of Orochimaru’s death. Nothing seemed to have escaped unscathed. Doors hung from their hinges. Entire rooms had been burned to ash. Equipment had been toppled over. 

And it was empty. Madara couldn’t sense a single soul within the bunker’s walls, save for Sakura’s, which lingered somewhere on the other side of it. He hoped that she had found something.

As he made his way back to her, he couldn’t help but notice that there was a very dark energy that seemed to haunt this place. He could sense remnants of Uchiha chakra here – little bits of energy that clung to the air that he recognized as different Sharingan techniques. It was subtle, but his trained senses could tell that something was off about Sasuke’s chakra.

“God damn it!” Sakura’s voice cursed from somewhere down the hall.

Curious, Madara followed the sound of her voice to what appeared to be some sort of patient room. She had placed the Kaguya’s body on the cot, his blood now dripping onto the floor in a lilting cadence. Drip. Drip. Madara stopped in the doorway to watch her.

She was perched on top of him, her hands pressed down into chest with the faint glow of healing chakra. Her hair fell down into her face, but didn’t obscure the fierceness that blazed in her eyes.

“Having trouble?” Madara asked, leaning against the doorframe to watch her work. She had lost focus on the real goal here, but he supposed that he could indulge in her soft little tendencies. He found them rather charming.

“I don’t want to admit that bastard was right.”

“You mean about something other than time travel?” he asked.

She pulled her hands away from the body’s chest and paused. He watched her take in a breath and release a sigh, her shoulders falling with defeat. She looked a glorious mess as she raked her bloodied fingers through her hair. Madara felt his Sharingan begin to whirl as she stepped down off of the cot and straightened her clothes.

“Kabuto will come back to get his body,” she said. “I need you to burn it.”

Her eyes connected with his, unabashedly looking into his pinwheels. The message was clear enough in her gaze: burn it. A command. It was in her posture, her squared shoulders, chin tilted so she could see his face properly.

And he could see hers, washed out by the strange, harsh lights above. She looked pale, but there was nothing to see but determination on those delicate features of hers. Her lips were pulled into a serious pout, and he found his gaze unrelentingly drawn to them. He gave in to the temptation, gazed at his leisure at her sweet, pink little mouth.

It wasn’t until she cleared her throat and he met her gaze again that he realized he ought not stare at her like that.

“Move,” he commanded her gently, pushing her behind his back so he could perform a quick fireball jutsu. The cot went up into flames and even through their crackling roar Madara heard Sakura’s dejected sigh. She took a step closer to the cot, peering into the flames as she hooked her fingers into the back of his shirt.

Her attention seemed to be entirely on the Kaguya, so perhaps she didn’t realize how close to him she stood. Far be it from him to discourage the way her hip brushed along his leg, or her breast along his back. She smelled divine, and he just needed to touch her, so he moved his arm over her head. Her impossibly soft hair tickled his skin as he found the small of her back and splayed his fingers there.

Sakura took this as a sign to move forward, her eyes glowing eerily in the firelight. He couldn’t quite place the expression on her face, but his thoughts were suddenly on her shoulders, were which bare in that little red vest. The fire made her skin glow, and she was just so… so sunny. The blood, the fire, her fierce expression – it was all so hot, so energetic. It made him think of Hashirama.

She now stood in the circle of his arm, having stepped beside him, and so it seemed the natural thing to do to put his arm around her. Tiny thing she was, he nearly swallowed her with his body, and something perverted in him came alive at the thought of just lifting her up off the ground and kissing her.

But she didn’t look like she wanted to be kissed, even though she allowed him to hold her like this. She looked angry, and Madara wasn’t sure he understood why.

“Why do you care so much about the Kaguya?” he asked.

Reflected flames danced in her eyes. “He was the last of his clan,” she said calmly, though she looked pained. “Just like Sasuke.”

“A Kaguya is no match for an Uchiha. You’re better off with Sasuke.”

She gave him a dry look, and it was then that she realized that his arm was around her and his hand was on her waist. Her face reddened and her body stiffened, but she didn’t move away from him.

“His kekkei genkai is gone forever now,” she said, her tone reprimanding. “If I had been able to heal him and bring him back to Konoha, he could have restored his clan. We could have had the Kaguya’s fighting for the village.”

Madara stared at her with a weird sort of appreciation for her vision. “Realistically, it’s not likely for you to help two entirely different people restore their clans from the ground up.”

“But if I had, then my children could have married his children,” she argued. “With genetics like that, their children would be unstoppable.”

Madara scowled. “We don’t need Kaguya blood muddying up the Uchiha bloodline,” he snapped, letting go of her to cross his arms.

Sakura seemed amused by his sudden shift in mood, though he didn’t miss the way her hand flew to where his had been on her waist and stayed there, bunching the material of her vest.

“I suspect that inbreeding has a lot to do with your curse, so maybe you’d be a little better off with some Kaguya blood in you.”

He smacked her on the back of the head sharply, unsure how he hadn’t been able to stop the impulse. It had just sounded so much like something Hashirama would say, and Madara would certainly have smacked him on the back of the head for a comment like that.

But kunoichi or not, he’d not often finding himself wanting to hit a woman – certainly not Sakura, who was a precious Sunflower and not some—

Madara yelped when Sakura grabbed the skin of his arm in a sharp pinch and sent a jolt of electrifying chakra through his arm.

“What have you got against the Kaguyas?” she asked, and it seemed she was doing her best to seem angry but something tugged at the corners of her lips.

“Their kekkei genkai is difficult to unlock,” Madara said, trying to keep his gaze on her eyes and not her mouth, which was especially difficult as she parted her lips to wet them with her pink little tongue.

“So is the Sharingan.”

“All the more reason not to burden our children with two curses,” he replied.

Sakura’s cheeks reddened, though Madara thought it had nothing to do with the growing flames in the room. Her gaze flicked over to the cot where she watched as the Kaguya’s melting skin dripped from his bones.

“Come on,” he said gently. “We need to stay focused.”

///

They scoured the bunker together, searching for even a scrap of paper that mentioned anything about time travel. Madara began to suspect that it was something this Orochimaru guy had never considered before – especially if his assistant would claim it’s impossible.

So when the two of them finally climbed out of the bunker, defeated, Madara had to clutch at his head to control the sudden ache in it. That dark cloud, though slow moving, was seeping through the cracks in his brain. He could already feel its humid, expanding pressure against his temples and at the back of his eyes.

He was back to square one. He had no clue about the physics of time travel himself, and the people most likely to know such a thing here had deemed it impossible.

But it couldn’t be impossible. He had gotten here, hadn’t he? How could he have traveled into the future without knowing how?

A pang of horror struck him when he realized that he could possibly be in some sort of genjutsu. This could all be some sort of elaborate, cruel trick. To put him here, where his clan had been massacred, with this beautiful, intriguing kunoichi…

“Are you feeling alright?”

His eyes darted for hers, and he felt something comforting in her soft, concerned gaze. Her hands, hanging limply at her sides, glowed with chakra. She wanted to push that probing chakra of hers into his brain, study him like a frog to dissect. The darkness in his head thickened, and he managed to suppress the wince he felt inclined to make.

“I’m fine,” he said, though he felt anything but fine. He felt trapped, scared. What if he never saw Izuna again? How could he stay here in a future like this? What was he even supposed to do now?

Sakura’s hand twitched, and Madara felt his gaze lingering on them. Self consciously, she put her hands behind her back and the glow of chakra faded away.

This has been her plan. Her idea. Now that she was out of ideas, would she abandon him? Would she want to go back to Konoha?

A thought paralyzed him with fear for a moment – that she might go after Sasuke. As unstable as that boy was, Madara thought it highly unlikely she’d survive another encounter with him.

“Sakura,” he said, and she looked up into his eyes immediately. “I don’t know what to do.”

She blinked at him, her bottom lip worried between her teeth. “I don’t know what to do, either.”

Looking at her made the darkness in his head feel a little lighter. She looked at him with such pure concern that it was a little intimidating. Few people had ever looked at him like that. Izuna often looked at him like that, and Madara was suddenly filled with a vile hatred for the fact that he didn’t want to have to miss Sakura if he ever made it back to his time.

“Do you remember anything that happened before you were transported here?” Sakura asked.

He tilted his head to look at her, noticing the way her body was angled toward his, her arms tucked neatly behind her back. She rocked back and forth on her feet as if she were nervous or impatient, and it made Madara suspicious.

“The moon,” he said, recalling the strange face he had seen in it. “I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I think I saw a face on the moon right before I fell asleep and woke up here.”

“The moon,” Sakura echoed softly. Her eyes dropped and she tapped her chin as she thought to herself for a moment. “Could it… no, it couldn’t be a genjutsu. But does it feel like one?”

Did it feel like one? Nothing about this felt like a genjutsu. The only brief moments that could be described that way were the moments he looked up into the sky and saw a moon that shouldn’t be there.

“No,” he said, as he glanced up toward the sky. No moon was there.

“Perhaps you should try charting the moon,” she suggested. “There’s an astronomer just west of Konoha. I could give you directions to get there. He might know something that could help you.”

Madara’s heart, which he’d always believed to be rather war-hardened, cracked as if it were an egg dropped on the kitchen floor. Just the mere indication that she would leave his company made him feel short of breath. It seemed unfair to be here without her. She’d been here beside him when he’d woken up in this time, and she’d hardly left his side since. He couldn’t be here alone. If he never made it back, and never saw Izuna again, he couldn’t then bear with the fact that he might never see Sakura again either.

Because he couldn’t just go live in Konoha. He couldn’t hunt her down after he’d failed at finding a way to travel backwards in time. Though he didn’t think her the type to rub her correctness in his face, she was definitely the determined type, and by the time he found her again, she might already be swollen with another Uchiha’s child.

And that was just unacceptable. Perhaps it was selfish of him, because there was still hope, wasn’t there? Just because they’d hit one dead end, that didn’t mean he’d be stuck here forever.

But just in case he was, he couldn’t just let Sakura go. She was all he had here.

“You wouldn’t join me?” he dared to ask.

She loosed a sigh, and he was a little angry that her sadness seemed so genuine. “I can’t do that,” she said. “I have to get back to Konoha and tell Tsunade-sama about Orochimaru and Sasuke. With Sasuke on the move, she’s going to want to try to intercept him before he can get to Itachi. That means time is of the essence.”

“But I need you.” The words escaped him before he thought better of them. He nearly winced as they slipped out, however true they were.

“Sasuke needs me, too.”

Madara licked his lips, thoughts racing. Sakura took a frightened step back from him, and he realized he was staring at her with spinning eyes. Her body tensed with preparation – whether to fight or flee, Madara wasn’t sure.

He deactivated his Sharingan. “You’re not my hostage, Sakura,” he said. “You can go where you please.”

If only flowers weren’t so delicate, he thought. He’d sling her over his back and carry her to the other side of the world. They could start a newer, better Uchiha clan over there.

“Oh.”

Her shoulders relaxed. Her expression of concern remained, but he supposed there were many things she could be concerned about.

“I won’t tell anyone about you,” she said. “I’ll tell everyone it was Tobirama who traveled forward in time and kidnapped me.”

That earned a smile from him, but somehow this all felt very wrong.

“Before you go, could you…?” He pointed to his head. “Could you do that thing?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to,” she said, immediately suspicious.

He winced, caught by surprise by the sudden tightness that felt as though his skull might crack from the pressure.

Sakura’s hands were lit with chakra now, but she held them at her sides, her face grim and serious. She waited for his response.

“I trust you,” he said. “I don’t see a point in enduring the pain if you know how to take it away.”

“Oh.”

She stood, her eyes deer-like as she blinked at him. It was a look of awe, and he wasn’t sure there was anything to be awestruck about in what he’d just said. But it was rather endearing that she seemed so unabashedly so.

But he began to grow impatient with her, so he tapped his toe to remind her that he was waiting. She cleared her throat awkwardly and closed the already short distance between them.

It was an affectionately close distant, though they didn’t touch. She didn’t need to be so close to him, but perhaps she’d found herself seduced by his charms. He liked to think he’d evoked reactions even Sasuke never could from her. An illicit shiver, prickling goosebumps.

Her cool fingers pressed against his temple, and he sighed with relief at the rushing, cleansing sensation of her healing chakra.


	16. Chapter 16

Madara groaned with relief, his hands flying to Sakura’s wrists. She grunted as he crushed her fingers against his skull. He wanted to push them right through the bone into his brain. The pain, however excruciating it was, could always be ignored. He would always be able to feel it, but it was so constant that it became white noise. It was just expected.

The relief of feeling it fade away was unimaginable, but it also brought more attention to what pain he was already feeling. It was an impossible combination of relief from pressure, but also immense, sharp throbbing.

“You’re hurting me,” Sakura said softly but clinically.

He opened his eyes and loosened his grip on her wrists. She uncurled her fingers, but kept her fingertips pressed to his temples. Her hands were so soft, and for no reason other than that he felt compelled to do so, he used his hands to flatten hers around his face.

The throbs of pain began to ebb away, too. Her chakra gushed over his brain, behind his eyes, lingering there – he could feel the taught nerves that she plucked from his brain that led her there. It felt horrid for them to be picked at so, but immediately following the sharpness it brought, coolness and light swept them away as if he could never had felt anything there in the first place.

He hadn’t even realized how much pain he had been in, but now that he could no longer feel it, a hazy, unguarded, unabashed smile erupted on his face. He needed Sakura if for this skill alone.

“You’ve got a lot of buildup in the chakra passageways around your eyes,” she said.

His eyes roved her, scouring every inch of her face for deceit or evil or whatever other trickery might come from this being a genjutsu or her being a kunoichi.

But her face – no answers could be sought there. She was unreadable, her face perfectly doll-like. Her cheeks were pink, but only prettily so, as if she could turn her cheeks that color for the sole purpose of distracting him. Her lashes that so charmingly matched in color seemed thicker and longer today, though perhaps he imagined that.

“You’ll be able to feel it, and I imagine you won’t like the sensation,” she continued, her voice lilting, but cold. “But if you’ll let me, I can clear the buildup and restore what vision you’ve lost.”

“What makes you think I’ve lost vision?” he demanded.

She released his face, but Madara pulled her hands back up, clutching them tightly so she wouldn’t try to remove them again.

“Yes, I’ll let you,” he said quickly, and it was hard not to notice her sudden smile, and he smiled too because it caught him so off guard.

“You lose vision only with your Sharingan and not your natural eyes,” she said, “and it’s because you use chakra to see through them, and when there’s chakra buildup, it slows the rate at which chakra flows through them, thereby lessening the both the speed with which you can move your eye, and the vision itself either by tunneling or blurriness.”

“Oh,” he said, and she grinned a little wider.

“But I know how to fix it,” she said, her voice much softer, much closer as she leaned forward. Her arms were stretched high over her head, and she leaned up on her toes to reach him. Her tongue poked out of her mouth with concentration, and he felt her chakra behind his eyes, surrounding them like they’d been dunked in icy cold water.

Abruptly, her chakra receded and she backed away from him with a frustrated humph.

He eyed her curiously, watching as she found a nearby tree – a larger pine maybe a foot and a half in diameter, and promptly smashed it with an impressive kick. It toppled over into the grass, and she beckoned for him as she climbed on top of it.

“Resourceful,” he murmured to her with amusement, obligingly standing in front of her now that she could stand and look him properly in the eye.

It was exhilarating to face her like this. She was so close that he felt breathless at the sight of her. She loomed slightly over him now, her gaze warm and curious and excited. He supposed this was exciting for her to finally be able to study what she wanted, even if it was only briefly.

“Would you turn your Sharingan back on?” she asked, settling her hands again on the sides of his face. This time she set them as he had held them, palms against his cheeks, fingertips at his temples.

He obeyed, and she didn’t flinch in fear when his irises smoked into their fearsome red.

Her chakra invaded him then, pulling tautly on every nerve in his eye. She sensation was unpleasant, and Madara’s hands itched to shove her away. The pain only grew – it felt like fire coursing behind his eyes. He shut them, biting back a pained groan as the back of his eyes began to burn. It felt like tears might form, but his eyes felt so hot he couldn’t tell if they were wet or not.

“The worst part is almost over,” Sakura said softly. One hand left his face to cup the back of his neck, drawing him even closer to her. He took a step forward to accommodate her. He heard her shifting her feet on the fallen tree and felt her soft puffs of breath against his face.

The fire behind his eyes felt like it was expanding for a moment. Madara winced, squeezing his eyes shut, though it did little to quell their pain.

“I know it hurts,” Sakura said, her voice even softer, nearly a whisper, as if those words were for her and not for him. The hand on the back of his neck, loosened and slid around to the side of his neck. Her thumb brushed soothingly along the sensitive skin there, and for a moment Madara forgot entirely about the pain in his head. He could focus on nothing but the scent of her, the feel of her breath and her touch, and the comforting way she made cooing noises as if he were a wild animal, a cat caught in some brambles.

The pain began to subside, though Sakura’s chakra lingered in the pathways behind his eyes. He could feel it there, relieving the pain she had caused, making him feel a little sleepy, a little lethargic.

“Could you open your eyes, please?”

Madara opened his eyes. She was far closer than he had anticipated – enough that he felt obliged to take a step backwards, but something held him in place. Her eyes were focused on his in a way he knew was more clinical than affectionate, but it was such a somber, somehow even tender gaze that he felt compelled to reach up and touch her face. He was sure he knew just how to touch her to make her gaze soften on him, turn it into something a little heated, a little intrigued.

His fingers twitched when a lock of hair fell across her eyes. He could easily have brushed it back behind her ear and let the pads of his fingers linger on her cheek.

But she tucked it behind her ear herself with the hand that had been on his neck. She then dropped it limply to her side.

“Could you deactivate your Sharingan?” she asked, her focus admirable. He felt her chakra still moving behind his temples, and he knew he shouldn’t distract her with touches like that while she was wheedling around in his brain.

He let his eyes fade to black again, smirking when Sakura’s expression did soften, even if only slightly.

One last course of chakra flushed through the pathways and nerves behind his eyes. It felt cooling and soft, and it made him lean in toward her, his eyes drifting shut before he remembered to keep them open for her.

“When you reactivate your Sharingan, your vision should be back to how it was when you first awakened it,” she said, removing her other hand from his temple.

He would have reactivated them, but he knew that Sakura preferred him like this, and he preferred her when she was all soft and warm like this. Instead, he leaned even closer, close enough to kiss her if she only would tilt her head a little. He heard her breath hitch and her feet shuffle as she thought to take a step back.

She couldn’t, though, without stepping off of her tree. And Madara wouldn’t let her. His hands found hers and held them. His eyes roved her face, hoping only to see warm things there. He did see them – the wonder and curiosity in her eyes, the heat that made her pulse quicken for a moment.

He should have been surprised when she didn’t pull away from him. He was being selfish and she was being far too patient with him. Why should she allow him to touch her like this, to share a bedroll, to look at her with lust and admiration and affection he shouldn’t even be feeling?

“Thank you,” he murmured to her, though it hardly seemed adequate. She had helped him far more than was her responsibility. She hadn’t just been a helping hand, but good company, beautiful, charming, amusing, enthralling company. It felt like his heart had caught on fire when he thought of having to let her go. How was that fair? Why couldn’t she just stay with him?

A smirk tugged at her lips, but his nearness preventing it from becoming a full-blown smile.

“Let me kiss you,” he begged, surprising himself not with the thought, but with the fact that the words had actually made it past his lips. He’d thought it a million times, of course, but she had cried before when he had kissed her, and he just couldn’t bear the thought of making her cry – not with a kiss.

“What?” she asked, the question leaving her mouth as a puff of confused breath.

But he knew she couldn’t have been too surprised by the question. She had felt this, too. She had been a willing participant in the touching and teasing and flirting, even if a little hesitantly. Did she not want to kiss him? Was the magnet that drew him to her not drawing her in, too?

Not willing to let that stand, he brought his hand up to cup the back of her neck as she had done to him. He could feel her pulse beating wildly against his palm and her eyes were wide, not with terror, but something that pleased Madara enough for him to feel a slight jolt of pleasure skitter down his spine.

His thumb caressed her cheek, testing the softness there. Sakura’s eyes slid shut as she leaned into his touch. Madara would have grinned, pleased with himself for affecting her so, but his thoughts raced to newer potentials, newer reactions he could get from her.

“Please,” he said, his voice a low murmur the likes of which he knew women had trouble resisting.

She inched closer to him, her feet scraping on the tree bark. Her hands came up to brace herself against his chest, tiny fingers trembling where they gripped his shirt for balance.

“But, Sasuke…” she whispered dejectedly, as if she were sad that she couldn’t kiss him because all her kisses were meant for another.

“He doesn’t have to know,” Madara said, though if the opportunity presented itself, he wouldn’t hesitate to rub it in that little bastard’s face. “It can be our little secret.”

Warm breath fanned his face when she let out a comforted sigh. He bent his head further toward her, letting his lips brush against her cheek, and then tentatively, the corner of her mouth. Her skin was silky and hot to the touch, and he lost the ability to care that she might not want him to as he softly kissed her cheek again, his fingers curling tighter around the back of her neck.

“Do you think I’ll ever go back to my time?” he asked her, postponing her inevitable decline. She’d never consent to a kiss, or do anything to betray Sasuke. “It seems impossible, doesn’t it?”

Her features softened more, her fingers curling and flexing against his chest. “I don’t know,” she confessed. He wished he could tell whether she was trembling with fear or anticipation.

“Where should I go?” he asked, because he trusted her judgment about these things. “If I’m stuck here, I’ll need to find somewhere to settle down.”

“Settle down?” she asked with a blink.

Madara hummed affirmatively. “Once I manage to track down the second most beautiful woman in the world and marry her, I’ll need to find us a place to live. Far away from here.”

She let out a huff of a laugh that warmed Madara’s insides.

“That’s what you’d want to do?” she asked.

He hummed again. “I’d want to find a good wife and spend the next ten years filling the world with our Uchiha children.”

Sakura’s skin flushed, but her cheeks appled with an amused grin. “That sounds like fun,” she admitted.

“Oh,” Madara said, his hand trailing down from her neck to her chest. His touch flittered over her collarbones, so delicate and pretty, brushing past her breast, which made her suck in a gasp of air. “You have no idea.” His hand settled on the curve of her waist, slipping beneath that little vest to touch her heated, silky skin.

He kissed her cheek again, tugging her body closer to his with the firm hand on her waist. She had no choice but to lean against him, so he supported her weight.

He could feel the goosebumps all over her, and feel the stuttering pulse of her heart, like a timid animal’s. She was so warm and her body was so appetizing pressed against his like this.

It occurred to him that he could coax her into a goodbye kiss if he really wanted to. Her body was betraying her – she was attracted to him in spite of the fact that Sasuke was who she really wanted. That wasn’t her fault, though it made him wonder if she’d ever think about him when she was with Sasuke. If he touched her in all the right placed and kissed her so good she’d see stars, then perhaps he’d get to keep a piece of her heart forever. Perhaps she’d never be able to kiss Sasuke without thinking of him, too.

“You’re really handsome.” 

Surprise froze his fingers, though a smile tugged at his lips. Her cheeks were still tinged red, but she kept eye contact with him, which elicited the tiniest shiver from him. He felt warm all over.

“You make me feel really pretty, so I just thought I’d return the favor,” she said, her voice trembling adorably with nerves. Had she ever complimented a man like that before? The thought that he might be the first made his heart clench for a moment. “The second prettiest woman in the world is really lucky.”

He chuckled and his breath raised the hairs on the back of Sakura’s neck. “Sasuke is the lucky one, isn’t he?” He touched the tip of his nose to hers and felt her soft inhale. It was so tempting to kiss her that he knew he should move away, but he just couldn’t.

She made a sort of mewling sound with the back of her throat, and he imagined carrying her back to his cave and trying to elicit all sorts of sounds like that from her.

“Please, Sunflower,” he said. “Let me be the lucky one, just for a minute.”

She tilted her face, so soft and pretty in the dappled light of the woods. Her eyes, refracted light like a kaleidoscope, glimmered with hundreds of shades of green, washing away entirely any notion of beauty Madara may have held before.

And then she kissed him. Her lips, quivering and pink, pressed against his with delicate fervor – the first kiss she’d given someone before, and it was his.

The urge to lift her up into his arms and have her wrap her legs around his waist stirred deeply in his gut. He couldn’t do that because he knew he’d want to slam her against the nearest upright tree and peel off those tight clothes and kiss every inch of her skin.

She was delicate, though, and too fragile for him to manhandle in such a way. Her kiss was achingly gentle with little experience, her lips and teeth and tongue all a little unsure of themselves.

He slipped his fingers into her hair, holding her gently like the bloom that she was – his Sunflower. He gave himself over to the kiss, his tongue sweeping across her lips, showing her how she could please him if she felt so inclined.

Her body melted against his. She released a half sigh, half moan into his mouth, and the sound made heat begin to pool low in Madara’s gut. He could already feel himself growing hard, and the feeling of her hands clutching desperately at his chest made his heartbeat quicken.

Eventually, she broke away from him, panting for breath. Her cheeks were so rosy, and her lips so raw from his kiss. Looking at her like this he suddenly felt that she could have asked him for anything and he would happily have obliged her. Maybe his heart was a little softer than it should have been, but he realized what a precious thing Sakura was. It would be a shame for her not to have everything she wanted. It would be a shame to lose her.

“Let me take you back to Konoha,” he offered. To her it might have seemed like a ploy to keep her company for a bit longer, and he couldn’t deny that he wanted that. But more importantly, he could keep her away from Sasuke.

She stared at him with warmth and confusion. Her gaze dipped longingly down to his mouth, and Madara forced himself not to kiss her again immediately. And then, remembering what she had told him about his vision, he reactivated his Sharingan.

Her expression did not shift as his eyes changed, but the difference was like night and day. He could see everything, every lash, every freckle, every single cotton candy strand of hair that framed her face. Her eyes suddenly seemed like galaxies to him – spirals and nebulas of green, and even hints of golden honey flecked between like stars.

Looking at her was like looking into the sun. Should he look this long at her without blinking? It felt as though he were seeing something he shouldn’t see – something not meant for him.

And then she nodded, not even questioning why he would want to take her back to Konoha, why he should postpone his search for a way back home.

Madara might have explained it to her, had she asked. Where would he go without her? She was his only guide here. There was no one he could trust more. He didn’t want to part with her, but he would respect if she needed to leave him. As he’d told her before, he wasn’t her problem to handle.

But before he could say any of that, she brought her hands back to the sides of his face and pulled him into another kiss.

Her fervor surprised him, and ignited an explosive fire in him. He groaned when she brazenly sucked his lower lip into her mouth, biting gently with her tiny teeth. His hands, which he seemed to have lost control of, gripped her waist with bruising force and lifted her up into the air.

Her legs wrapped around his waist immediately. She clung to him with desperation, her entire body quivering, practically humming with nervous, sexual energy. With gentle hands, he explored her body, touching her in all the places likely to booth soothe and excite her. He could feel her heat pressed against his stomach.

When she broke away from him again, the expression on her face was of unmistakable lust and awe. “Wow,” she murmured, and Madara laughed and reached up to brush an errant strand of hair away from her face. This wasn’t good at all – he was just as bad as she was with that damn cat. At least she hadn’t named it.

“Alright, Sunflower, let’s get you back to Konoha,” he said, lowering her toward the ground.

“Wait,” she said, though she slipped her very capable hand into his and stepped back down into the grass. “What are you going to do now? Did you come up with a Plan B?”

“There’s no Plan B, Sakura,” Madara said, his voice a little more clipped than he’d intended. It wasn’t fair that he should have to figure this out on his own when he wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten here in the first place. How do you go about finding a rational solution to an irrational problem?

“Don’t worry,” Sakura said. “We’ll figure something out.”

“We will?”

“Of course,” she answered easily. “If we’re going back to Konoha, I can ask Tsunade-sama about time travel. She might know something, or know someone who knows something. Maybe even Kakashi-sensei could help.”

He pulled his hand out of hers. “I can’t go back into Konoha,” he said. “I read all your history books. I know what I did and what they think of me.”

Sakura frowned. “Tsunade-sama trusts me,” she rationalized. “If I explain to her the situation, she’ll understand.”

“No,” Madara said firmly. “How could she? Three Senjus as Hokage, the Uchiha clan entirely wiped out? I’m expected to believe she’ll have reason to want to help an Uchiha at all, let alone me?”

Sakura’s frown deepened, and Madara lifted his hand to cup the side of her neck. “You, I believe,” he said a little gentler. “Ask her what you must, but please don’t bring my name into it. My reputation there is already ruined. It won’t help if people think I’ve traveled from the past to kidnap the Hokage’s apprentice.”

She said nothing, her face tilted down. Now that she was back on the ground, he couldn’t see her face at all, and he felt suddenly annoyed. He waited a moment for her to think, but grew easily impatient.

“Sakura,” he said, snapping his fingers.

Her eyes flicked up to his. “Sorry,” she said, and brought her hands to her lips, pressing her fingertips against them. “I’m a little distracted.”

“Hmm,” he hummed lowly. “I suppose you aren’t used to that sort of heat, huh?”

Her mouth twitched, though it was unclear whether it was from amusement or something else.

“If we keep practicing, I’m sure you’ll get used to it,” he said.

“Are you used to it?”

He tilted his head, grinning a little at the sass with which she had delivered her question. “Maybe.”

She twisted her lips into a half-frown, half-smirk. “You’re more dangerous than I thought,” she said dryly.

“Am I?” he laughed.

“Am I being stupid?” she asked, though he didn’t think she was directing that question toward him.

“For kissing me?” he asked. “Hardly.” He brought his fingers to her waist and dragged them gently over her ribs. “That just means you’re a healthy woman.”

“Wanting to kiss you makes me a healthy woman,” she said, pushing his hand away. “Actually doing it was pretty stupid. I can’t let you seduce me.”

“Baby, if I want to seduce you, we’d have fucked a thousand times by now.”

She glared at him, but he could see by the way her cheeks pinked and her breath caught sharply in her throat that she didn’t hate the sound of that.

“You practically begged me to kiss you,” she seethed.

“Well, yes, obviously,” he said dryly. “Provided I either make it back to my own time, or I part ways with you for another reason, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t get at least one real kiss from you. It’s sort of my right, isn’t it? You’re the Uchiha matriarch, and I’m the clan head. In a way, you sort of belong to me.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she snapped. “I’m not the Uchiha matriarch, and even if I was, I wouldn’t be yours, and even if I was yours, that wouldn’t mean you’d have the right to kiss me.”

Madara felt taken aback by the sting in her voice, though he didn’t show it. She had just been kissing him with such tenderness and passion. It made no sense that she would be so volatile, unless she was feeling guilty.

And if she did, he supposed he didn’t have to make it worse for her.

It was a strange sensation indeed to be yelled at by her and yet feel nothing but compassion for her.

“No, not mine,” he murmured softly, “but it would be nice if you were.”

Now she seemed rather taken aback, and much less adept at hiding it. She opened her mouth to speak, but appeared to have nothing to say and promptly shut it again.

“Come on, Sunflower,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”

///


	17. Chapter 17

Sakura was quiet. She walked with her arms crossed, her face drawn into a serious pout. Madara knew she was still on her period, but he didn’t think that was the reason for her dark mood as they made their way back toward Konoha.

There was something strange about the air, and Madara was too unnerved to give much thought to Sakura. He looked up into the sunny sky, and through the wispy clouds he saw a perfectly round moon. He blinked; it remained there, hanging like a little silver coin.

His feet kept moving, following Sakura’s pace. His heart leapt to his throat, and he stared up at the moon, his Sharingan spinning. He had always felt like he belonged to the moon. Seeing it now reminded him of home and Izuna, made him a little angry. It wasn’t supposed to be here, but neither was he, and maybe Sakura was right about that being the key to figuring all this out.

He should have asked her if she could see the moon, too. If she hadn’t curled her shoulders inward and been stoically silent while they traveled, he might have. He worried kissing her might have been a mistake, but he couldn’t think about that right now.

The moon glinted sharply as if it were a disk being tilted, reflecting the sun’s brightness. It blinded Madara for a moment, and his eyes stung and began to water. His legs propelled him forward, but he was blind to the world around him, refusing to stumble, or fall behind Sakura’s pace.

This was only an illusion – he was sure of it. The more he thought about it, the less inclined he was to believed that any scientific reason was called into question when he was teleported here to the future. There was nothing logical about this at all.

Leaves crunched beneath his feet, and he blinked his eyes open slowly, letting the harsh light slip first through the translucent skin of his eyelid, and then the dark lashes that protected his eyes, and finally, the world came back into focus.

Sakura still walked in front of him, oblivious to his turmoil. Her pink hair was swaying back and forth, tied high into a ponytail now.

Madara watched, hypnotized by the swing of her hair before he remembered to look up at the sky and find that silver moon again. He half expected that it would be gone, but it still hung there, glinting at him as if it were a winking eye. Madara blinked a couple of times and glanced back to Sakura’s hair.

“S—” He started to speak her name, but the word caught in his throat. His mouth suddenly felt rather dry and he reached absently for his canteen, which hung at his hip.

He uncapped it, mesmerized still by Sakura’s hair. He lifted it to his mouth to drink, but froze when he noticed that Sakura’s hair was losing pinkness. The tips seemed to be disappearing, fading upwards into her head.

Madara blinked rapidly, trying to dispel whatever illusion was holding him. He sensed no one nearby with his chakra, and even with his Sharingan activated he saw no trickery or genjutsu.

Sakura’s hair shortened as if it were being sucked back into her head, and Madara reached for her, concerned that she could be hurt or in some kind of trouble. He had no idea what was happening, but as his hand lurched for her shoulder, her head became a ball of blinding light – a sun so bright he couldn’t look at it.

He dropped the canteen and felt its water spill onto his foot. “Saku—”

His eyes suddenly burned and ached. He groaned in pain, pressing his palms against his eyeballs, pushing, pressing them deeper inside his head. It felt like they’d been skewered and pushed over a fire, and if only he could push them deep into the grey matter of his brain, they might cool, and he could—

He started at the feeling of cool fingers on his arm – Sakura’s, he hoped. He couldn’t open his eyes.

But then the pain behind his eyes began to grow, seeping outward into his brain. Madara clutched at his temples, his breath quickening, his pulse jumping. It was too much pain. It moved too quickly through his head, and soon following it was that dark cloud.

It had only just been erased. Sakura’s healing chakra had cleared it away only hours ago. That was unfair. What had he done to deserve this?

“Madara?” he heard Sakura’s terrified voice ask.

Blindly, he reached for her hands, her precious, cool little fingers and the magic he knew they had. He caught her arms and worked his way down to her wrists. Why was she not just healing him already? What was the matter with her?

And then the pain intensified, boiling over until it felt like a small star had imploded, collapsed in on itself and taken Madara’s brain with it.

///

Madara woke with a mouth that felt like cotton, eyes that had been crusted shut, and bones that ached with disuse. He winced as he tried to sit up, realizing that he was in a bed of some kind. It smelled like mothballs and cheap wood, and the only sound he could hear was running water somewhere in the distance.

“Sakura,” he called out, though it came out as a hoarse whisper.

He felt a momentary panic when there was no response from her, and he reached up for his eyes, rubbing the grit away so he could peel his eyelids open.

Panic blew full when he blinked his eyes open and saw nothing. Just darkness. His heart raced and his chest felt too tight to breath through. He flung the thin blanket that covered his legs away and stepped cautiously onto the hardwood floor, testing it with his bare foot. 

The running water stopped, and Madara held his breath, hoping to calm himself down before he exploded.

He heard pattering footsteps approaching, and then abruptly they stopped. Something ceramic crashed onto the floor, breaking and spilling a splash of water. A second later, two arms were wrapped around his waist, and a sobbing face pressed into his chest.

Instinctively his hand came to her back and held her against him, but it was only for a second that he indulged the urge. He grabbed onto her arm, furious that he could not see her face, and jerked her roughly backwards a step.

“What the hell have you done to me?” he rasped.

She pulled her arm, but he held onto it. He couldn’t see her eyes, couldn’t know what she was feeling. It made him all the more angry, which made his head begin to ache, but he needed answers, and he needed them right now.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said, her voice breathy and soft. “Could you sit back down, please? How are you even able to—.” She began to cry again, and it made Madara feel nauseous. 

He let go of her arm, feeling a little dizzy. Her hand came to his and she guided him back to the bed, where he allowed her to lay him down again. He felt rather disoriented now, and it swayed and rocked in his stomach. Sakura brushed her cool fingertips across his forehead, and for a second it felt rather nice, and he remembered what a soothing sensation her chakra could be.

But then perhaps that had been her game from the beginning. He grabbed onto her wrist, gripping it with bruising force. “You did this to me,” he accused. “You’ve been poking around in my head. What did you do?”

“Madara, no,” she said, terror clear in her voice. “I didn’t, and even if I could, I would never… I couldn’t—”

“What the hell happened?” he demanded.

“We were walking and you just collapsed,” she said, and he remembered walking with her, watching her swinging ponytail. He reached forward, searching for her head. His fingers collided awkwardly with her temple. She grunted, but he ignored it as he felt along her head. Her hair was down now, loose around her shoulders.

Sakura grabbed onto his hand with both of hers and brought it to her lap. He felt her cross her legs beneath her, her weight shifting the bed. She stroked his hand with tender affection, and Madara suddenly felt overwhelmed by the heat from her lap and the silky softness of her thigh, and the gentle way she touched his hand.

“I have no idea what happened to you, but when I scanned your head with chakra, it was like… there was just mush,” she said. “I thought you were dead. You should have been. You should be. I honestly don’t know how you aren’t.”

Madara’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. He heard Sakura’s sharp gasp, like she was trying to contain her sobs.

“But all your other vitals were fine,” she said. “You were breathing. Your heart was beating. It went against all reason because, Madara, your brain is totally fucked. Like it looked like it had exploded or something.”

He shook his head with disbelief, more confused by the second. Was she telling him his brain had literally exploded? “Where are we?” he asked her.

“I brought you to the nearest inn,” she answered.

“How long have we been here?”

“Five days.”

“How’s my brain now?”

Sakura was silent. He was enraged by the fact that he couldn’t see her face, but she still stroked her thumb gently over the back of his hand.

“As of an hour ago, it was still mostly mush,” she said. He could hear her sniffling now. “I’ve been trying to fix it. It seemed like it should have been impossible, but at the same time, you were still alive, still breathing. What was I suppose to do?”

She paused, thumb and all.

“I brought you here because I thought we’d be safe here,” she said softly. “I’ve kept our identities hidden so I could try to… figure this out. I spent three entire days with no food or sleep just using chakra to knit together your grey matter. At the end of those three days, you could barely tell that I’d done anything at all.”

Madara leaned forward, interested, confused, a little angry. “I can’t see,” he said, frustration throwing grit into his tone.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Sakura said softly. “I don’t know if I can fix it. Would you let me take a look?”

He growled, feeling far too much like a cornered animal. He didn’t want her anywhere near his head. He couldn’t be sure that she hadn’t been the one to do this to him in the first place. His instincts were telling him to get as far away from her as possible. She had seduced him, tricked him into…

The fight left him and he felt his body relax against the thin mattress. She’d had five days to explore his head at her leisure. He’d been totally at her mercy. Whatever she wanted from his head, she would no doubt have taken it already by now.

Besides that, shouldn’t she have gone back to Konoha? She’d made it clear her priority was Sasuke – and time was of the essence. So what was she doing here with him instead of back in Konoha, discussing Sasuke’s retrieval with her Hokage? 

He heard her sniffle, and he felt a surge of annoyance with her.

“Are you still crying?” he asked with exasperation.

The sniffling stopped, and again he found himself in great distress because he couldn’t see her. Her weight shifted on the bed, and he reached for her again. She caught his hand and held onto it.

“You need to eat something,” she said, softly. Her weight shifted again, but didn’t move from the bed. A moment later, she was pressing a chilled canteen into his hands. “It’s open and full, so be careful,” she said.

Madara brought it to his lips, sucking greedily. His throat was parched, and the water was icy as it went down his throat, settling uncomfortably in his empty stomach.

“I can’t see,” he said to no one in particular when he’d drunk all he could.

“I know,” Sakura said with impossible gentleness. “Do you want me to take a l—?”

Madara cut her off with the swing of his legs back over the side of the bed. He lurched unsteadily to his feet, fighting against the roiling in his stomach. “No,” he said tensely, unsure of how much he could really trust her.

Which, now that he thought about it, was a really big problem seeing as she was the only help he had, and now that he was blind, he needed help more than ever. He had an adamant distaste for helplessness, both in himself and others.

“Umm, I’d really prefer if you sat back down,” she said, and her sudden timidity pleased him for some unknown reason. “Your brain is still… all mushy, and I don’t want you to jostle it too much.”

“I need food,” he said, standing a little awkwardly in the room he could not see.

“I’ll get you some food,” she said. “There’s a bar downstairs. Let me just—.”

“Go,” he commanded gently, eager for privacy, for time away from her. He couldn’t think straight when she was near, and she was always right by his side.

He heard her scramble away from the bed, and a few moments later, a door clicked open and then shut. A bit clumsily because he still felt so nauseous, he sat back down on the bed, clutching his head in his hands. He could feel Sakura’s chakra signature in the building, moving somewhere below him.

Now that she was gone, his frustrations compounded on him and he felt rage again, only it didn’t quite cloud his head like it used to. He growled, and prodded at his temples, wondering whether Sakura was right and his brain was nothing but jelly floating freely in his skull now.

That made no sense – he’d be dead, but he didn’t think Sakura would lie to him about something like that. He shouldn’t have trusted her to begin with, but now he would have no choice.

Quickly, before she returned, Madara felt his way toward the bathroom, arms extended out in front of him. His foot landed in something cold and wet, and then brushed against a shard of something sharp – whatever Sakura had dropped in the shock of finding him awake and standing up.

He walked past the mess carefully, and found the bathroom. His hands felt along the countertop, dipping into the cold basin and under the faucet that hung over it. The knobs were unfamiliar to him, but he twisted them until he heard water groaning through the pipes.

Promptly, he dry heaved, his body reacting to the act of moving so much, of his brain being mush. It made his stomach cramp further, and his body convulsed against his will, wracking against him, straining every muscle in his body.

Was this the moon’s doing? He couldn’t understand what had happened to him, whether the pain in his head had been part of his curse, of part of whatever mystical being had brought him into the future.

Annoyed, he spit the sour taste in his mouth into the basin and moved further into the bathroom. His hands found a porcelain tub, and he suddenly found the idea of a warm bath pleasant. Perhaps it would soothe his frayed nerves and relax the tension in his body. The tub’s knob was trickier, but once he found it, it turned it on full blast and began to gingerly strip off his clothes.

With heavy limbs, he heaved his naked body into the tub, wincing because the water was a little too hot. He couldn’t reach the knob now, and he felt far too exhausted to sit up and move it, so when the water covered his body, he used his foot to turn the knob.

It helped, but it made him feel much more anxious. He listened, because it was the only thing he could do, and he heard the water sloshing in the tub, and some distant, unintelligible chatter coming from the room next door. Behind that there was some kind of buzzing, maybe an insect in the room or something. The hum of it soothed him, and though it made little difference now, he shut his eyes.

///

He hadn’t heard her come into the room, but he felt her presence the second she opened the bathroom door. He kept his eyes closed and inhaled the scent of grilled fish that wafted to him.

“Oh,” her startled voice said, and he imagined that she was looking at his naked body unabashedly, her cheeks probably pink. He wished he could have seen it. “I brought you some food,” she said. “Do you need help getting out of the tub?”

He made a sound of disgust. He could handle standing up on his own, but he was still unclean, just wet now. He needed soap, and a towel, and probably a change of clothes – all things he’d not want to try to find on his own right now.

“Come here,” he said to her. Silence followed for a few beats, and then he heard the patter of her footsteps as she neared the tub. He held out an open hand. “Soap.”

Sakura let out a scoff that sounded half annoyed, half amused. He felt a bar of soap pushed into his hands.

“Thank you,” he said, dunking the soap under the water so he could lather it up. Sakura said nothing, and he couldn’t stand not being able to see her, but he felt a little thrill in knowing that she was looking at him like this, naked. He sat up a little bit and began to soap up his chest and shoulders.

Sakura cleared her throat nervously. “I’ll just wait for you—.”

“No,” Madara said firmly. “Stay here until I’m finished.”

The command sounded rude, even to his own ears. Though there was a perverted side of him that enjoyed being naked next to her, he was more than aware that there was an awkward tension between them now. After those kisses, and his brain exploding, it was a wonder that she hadn’t run away already. She should have been seeking out Sasuke, yet here she was, still right by his side.

Part of him knew why: she wanted to explore his head. His unconsciousness had provided her ample opportunity, and long term, this was what she needed to help Sasuke.

She sighed softly, and he fought the urge to reach out and touch her.

“What did you find in my head?” he asked, trying to sound patient and not as angry as he felt.

“Nothing,” she said, and by her bitter tone, he had to believe her. She sounded rather disappointed. “That… that darkness that fills your head sometimes – I think it’s part of your curse. It seems to be what causes you so much pain all the time, and I’m not really sure what it is. It’s easy enough to keep at bay, but as you know, it comes back after some time.”

“After I feel anger,” Madara supplied, piecing together the puzzle.

Sakura hummed in agreement. “But there’s none of that in your head now,” she said, “so I wasn’t sure how to help you when you collapsed. There isn’t much left of your brain to work on. I tried literally putting it back together, because it’s not like I can do anything with it in its current state.”

“So I’m dead,” he said, feeling an odd comfort in the statement. If he didn’t feel so awful, he might have guessed he was in heaven. He’d have given almost anything to find himself naked in a bathtub with Sakura just a few days ago. He couldn’t enjoy it now.

“This must be some sort of jutsu,” Sakura mused. “But it makes no sense.”

“Yeah,” Madara groaned, shifting himself so he could move his hair from behind his back to wash it. “I’m sick of things not making sense.”

Silence settled over them again. Madara began to wash his hair – an easy enough task to do without being able to see. He found comfort in the movements, the ability to actually do something for himself.

He heard nothing from Sakura, but he could sense her kneeling down next to the tub.

“Why are you still here, Sakura?” Madara asked her as he began to rinse the soap from his hair. “Why haven’t you gone to find Sasuke? I’m useless to you like this, with no brain to study, no sight.”

“Useless,” she scoffed. “I’m sure your formidable, even without your vision.”

That was true, Madara thought, but it didn’t exactly answer his question. He said nothing in response, instead focusing on detangling his hair. His fingers caught on a particularly tough tangle that he struggled with for a moment before he felt Sakura’s hands in his hair.

He conceded control to her, letting her work her fingers through his hair as she pleased. It felt sort of pleasant, even if she was a little rough with him.

“I sent another message to Tsunade-sama,” she said, her voice even closer to him now that her arms were stretched across the tub. “I told her about Orochimaru and Sasuke. I told her that I’m okay for now, that she doesn’t need to worry but that I can’t come home just yet.”

Madara wished so badly that he could see her face.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you need me.”

He fought off the urge to scowl, because he didn’t need her. He needed to get home. He needed his vision back. He needed to know that Izuna was okay. He didn’t need her. She wasn’t even his to need.

“So does Sasuke,” he snapped, tossing her own words back at her.

Suddenly her hands were on his face, wet fingers pressed against his cheeks, curving around to cradle his neck. He was startled, but he didn’t push her away.

“I might have made a difference choice if you hadn’t kissed me,” she confessed, her voice so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. “But you did, and I can’t get it out of my head. I’d never felt like that, you know. And all I could think when you collapsed and I saw what happened to your head was that I didn’t get to…”

She sighed again, and Madara knew he only had to lean forward to kiss her again, but he waited.

“Didn’t get to what?”

Her hands slid down the side of his neck to his chest, her palms noticeably trembling. “There’s just so much I’ve never done.”

“Oh,” Madara said, and for the first time since he woke up, he felt a smile tug at his lips. He reached for her hands, covering them with his own. “My little Sunflower is curious.”

He knew she was blushing and he felt so angry that he couldn’t see it.

“So you saved me so you could fuck me,” he said. “That’s why you’re sticking around.”

She pulled her hands away and he didn’t stop her. “That’s not what I said, you knob,” she snapped. “I mean not that I don’t—”

“Is it true or not?” he demanded. “You could be seducing me for darker reasons for all I know.”

“What do I have to do to get you to trust me?” she asked with exasperation.

He paused, unsure of how to answer that. Her fingers came back to his hair to work their way through the knots in his hair, gentle and affectionate in spite of her irritation. Could he ever truly trust her?

“You expect me to believe that you would disrespect Sasuke like this?” he asked.

To his surprise and amusement, she growled. “How the hell am I disrespecting Sasuke?” she demanded. “We aren’t together. And you were there when he threatened to kill me.”

“Oh, so you’ve decided to move on, then?”

Her fingers froze in his hair. She was quiet for a moment, and Madara held his breath, not wanting to admit, even to himself, how deeply curious he was to hear her answer.

“I’d never be sitting here like this with Sasuke,” she said. “He wouldn’t let me comb his hair like this. He’d never have shared a bedroll with me. Hell, I can count on one hand the number of times he’s smiled at me.”

Madara let his breath loose, shifting his head so she could reach his hair easier.

“I thought I wanted Sasuke,” she said. “I know I love him. I just think there’s something missing… and I think you have it.”

Relentlessly upset that he still couldn’t see her face, Madara reached forward toward the sound of her voice. His wet hand collided with her face and she grunted softly before he cupped her cheek, reverently touching her lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

“What exactly is it that I have that Sasuke doesn’t?” he asked, sloshing the water in the tub as he moved to be closer to her. He heard the splash of water on tile and felt Sakura pull away from him just the tiniest bit. “Tell me, Sakura,” he commanded.

“I… I don’t know,” she said. Her mouth trembled, and her tongue brushed against his thumb as she licked her lower lip. “Affection? Passion? It’s just… the nickname, the way you look at me, touch me. It just lights me up. I know it’s not supposed to. I mean I barely know you, and you’re—”

“Fuck,” he cursed, interrupting her. What was he supposed to do now? Ruin her life by being here? Sasuke did actually need her, and the future she wanted was one that he wanted for her. He couldn’t just use her up and then be back on his way to his own time. How was that fair to either one of them?

“What’s the matter?” she asked, her voice a little breathy.

He pulled her lower lip down with his thumb, twisting his hand around so he could stick his pointer finger into her mouth. She screeched and pushed at his hand. For a second he clung onto her face, trying to memorize the way her mouth felt, so warm and wet around his finger. 

But then he felt her begin to move back away from him, so he released his grip on her and let his hand drop, arm hanging over the edge of the tub.

“You are so damn beautiful, Sakura. I wish I could see you.”

Well, that probably wasn’t the best thing to say. He could smell her fear, and he knew he shouldn’t have touched her like that. It was just so damn frustrating not being able to see her.

Sakura was silent for a while. Madara tilted his head as he listened. Her heart was beating incredibly fast. He could hear it so loudly in the tiny bathroom. Poor thing was probably terrified, or angry, and her silence disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

Abruptly, with a voice that was confused and raspy, Sakura asked, “Why the hell did that turn me on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it’s a dreary, slow Tuesday for me. I’m bored and I wanted to post a chapter, so here it is. While I’ve got you here, though, I thought I’d let you guys know that I’ll be taking prompts and fic requests on tumblr (@force-healer) from now until after the holidays. I’ve debated starting another long fic, but I’ve been so busy lately that I didn’t want to not be able to post regular updates, especially for this fic in particular. But I do have a fair amount of downtime, so hit me up with all your rarepair fic requests and cute prompts and stuff. I’ll post them to tumblr and Ao3 as well as here.


	18. Chapter 18

In all his twenty years on earth, Madara had never been so shocked into a mixture of lust and amusement. He laughed, a low husky chuckle. He was suddenly glad not to be able to see her, because he was sure her eye would be drawn down to his growing erection, and he wasn’t sure the sight of her wide, green eyes locking onto his after that was something he could handle. He already felt compelled to pull her into the tub with him and show her all the ways he was undoubtedly better than Sasuke.

“You can’t catch feelings for me, Sunflower,” he said instead. “What about Sasuke?”

“Are you fucking joking?”

Madara let out an indignant scoff, and hoped that his arousal hadn’t given away that he found her sass amusing.

“I can’t catch feelings?” she demanded. “After you begged me to kiss you? After you’ve been flirting and touching and teasing me this whole time? What about you, dumbass? Have you not caught feelings?”

He heard the sneer in her voice, and felt himself grow harder. Everything she said was true – he had no defense for himself. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to properly articulate it in his current state.

“Okay, fine,” she continued, her rage growing in the wake of his silence. “I’ll just go back to Konoha.”

He heard the rustle of movement and lashed out to catch her wrist. “No, Sakura, stop,” he said, yanking her backwards with what little strength he had. It was enough to pull her down into his lap, sending water crashing all over the bathroom floor.

Sakura squealed indignantly, but stilled when her flailing caused her hand to brush against his hardened length. Madara hissed, both pleasure and pain jolting through his body.

“Sorry,” Sakura said, sounding hoarse and unsettled.

“You can’t go,” he said, grabbing a handful of her wet vest so he could move her around so that she was facing him. Sakura moved her legs to straddle his waist, more mindful of his throbbing manhood as she positioned herself, avoiding it as best she could.

Elated that she was cooperating with him, he pulled her hand down to his erection. “I need you,” he said, holding her hand around his length. She gasped, and he could only imagine the way her lips parted to make the sound. Her body was tense on top of his – he smelled fear on her again.

Anger was okay, he thought, but fear was not. He released her hand, and to his pleasant surprise, she did not let go of him. Her fingers remained curled around him, frozen, trembling.

His heart pounded in his chest now, blood rushing in his ears. A little desperately, he reached for her face and pulled her down for a kiss. He felt her other arm come up beside his head and heard her palm hit the tile as she braced her weight against the wall.

Madara kissed her greedily, both hands wrapped around her head, holding her face against his. He felt Sakura’s ragged gasps for air, and he pressed his thumb into her pulse on her neck, thrilled to find it beating erratically and sharply.

She began to kiss him back, so Madara relented, relinquishing control of her face in favor of other equally enticing parts of her. He found her thighs, still wrapped in what he presumed were her little black shorts. He reached around to the curve of her ass and squeezed, maybe a bit too roughly – Sakura squeaked into his mouth.

As he hardened even more, Sakura’s loose grip became unbearable. He grabbed her hand and began stroke himself with her.

A loud groan escaped him. His fingers tightened around Sakura’s, and Sakura’s legs tightened around his waist. Sakura let out a breathy laugh and gave him an exploratory squeeze. He bucked up into her hand, sending more water cascading over the edge of the tub.

Her touch sent heat spiraling through his body. The water was beginning to grow cold, but it was warm in all the place she touched him. It was rippling around his nerves – electricity, desire. He wanted more. She needed her clothes off, now, and he needed his hands on her.

But then she began to stroke him, her fingers curled almost too tightly around him. She flexed each of her fingers, adjusting the strength of her grip as she stroked him up and down. Her hands were so soft – all of her was so soft. He reached for the zipper of her vest and yanked it down.

Sakura hummed as he cupped her breasts He pulling the vision of them from his memory. He longed to be able to see her now, but it was a treat just to be able to touch her, to taste her.

He grabbed her hips and shifted them so he could kiss her neck, and then her chest. Sakura let go of him, to his utter dismay, but put her hands on the back of his head, holding his face against her chest. He smirked against her skin, working her vest off of her shoulders.

“Keep touching me,” he instructed softly, guiding her hand away from his face and back toward his throbbing hardness.

Sakura made a noise – he couldn’t quite identify its meaning, but she obliged him. Her chest pulled away from him, and he understood why she had let go. She couldn’t reach him like that, though his body was contorted a little bit to fit into the tiny bathtub.

He sat up a little more, pushing Sakura down until the straddled his thighs and his erection, still wrapped with her wet fingers, was between them. She stroked and squeezed him, her pace gentle and cautious. His heart shattered at the fact he could not see her. He was sure she had never looked quite as beautiful as did right now, and it was killing him that he would never get to see what she looked like in this moment.

Madara groaned sharply when she began to quicken her pace, and judging by the easy way she seemed to know how to stroke him, he was inclined to believe that maybe she had done this before. He felt liquid heat pooling in his gut, fire coursing through his veins. If she didn’t stop…

He moved his hand toward hers to still her. It was too arousing, and he couldn’t come before he’d pleasured her first. He was alive with the thought of the sounds she would make, how delicious she would taste, how her supple, naked body would feel beneath his hands.

But then something lit up his whole body – a flash of pleasure that jolted everywhere, from the throbbing arousal in Sakura’s hand down to his toes. He cried out, a mixture of pleasure and confusion. Some level of his brain, mush or not, realized that it was her chakra.

In less frantic situations, he would have tossed her across the room, as far away from him as possible. But her hands were still expertly working his shaft, and he felt the wave of heat cresting low in his gut.

Sakura tittered, amused by her handiwork. He had half a mind to smack her on the back of the head again, but then she leaned down to kiss him – he felt her body stretch along his, her breasts brushing against his chest.

The wave crashed. Madara groaned as Sakura pumped him harder, drawing out his orgasm, her tiny, wet body pressed against his. She moved her mouth to his neck, burying her face there. He could feel her smile against his neck, and it made his heart burst open.

Her pace slowed and became gentle. She sent another burst of chakra into him, but this one felt like the opposite. The first had exploded every nerve in his body, but this one seemed to relax him, to make his bones feel even more like jelly than they already did.

“Where on earth did you learn to do that?” he demanded from the girl who claimed she’d never been kissed before.

Her smiled widened. He felt it against the skin of his neck and decided that she’d have to keep her face there until he got his vision back. He couldn’t be robbed of her smiles indefinitely.

“I watch a lot of porn.”

“What the hell is porn?”

Sakura giggled and breathed against him, and he tightened his grip on her, not caring that water had gone cold some time ago.

///

The barrier of rigidity had been knocked down between them. It made it much easier for Sakura to help him out of the tub, dry him off, and get him dressed. He didn’t mind her help, or the way her hands lingered maybe a little too long in some places.

When she helped him climb back into the bed, he mused that her help was rather unnecessary. He was certain he could dress and feed himself, even blind, but he had never really been taken care of before. He decided it was a nice feeling. She fluffed his pillows for him, helping ease him back into a comfortable position.

“Your food is probably cold now,” Sakura said regretfully, but Madara had no regrets.

With a lecherous grin, he reached forward for her and brushed his hand along her thigh. It inched higher. He felt her quivering, and moved his fingers closer to her center, which she had covered at some point with what felt like a tattered bathrobe. “I’m sure you’ve got something warm I could eat,” he teased, fingers slipping between the robe’s opening.

She brushed his hand away. “I’m still on my period, you pervert.”

He could smell her arousal with his now heightened sense of smell, and there was no coppery tang of blood beneath it. If what she said was true, then it had been a week since her period started, and he presumed that it didn’t usually last that long. If she were lying, he couldn’t bring herself to call her out on it. “Makes no difference to me,” he murmured, but Sakura moved away from him anyway. He heard her cross the room and open a paper bag.

When she returned to his side, the smell of grilled fish hit his nose again, and his stomach growled with anticipation. “Would you like me to feed you or do you think you can manage it on your own?” she asked.

He wanted to tell her that obviously he wanted her to feed him. He couldn’t recall having ever been fed before, and if he must be at her mercy, then he should at least enjoy all there was to be enjoyed about being in her care. Her touches were so tender, and her voice so soothing. She did this for a living, after all, and he should soak it all up while he could.

Except there was something degrading about being fed by hand. He didn’t want to feel so helpless, and he realized how much his blindness put them both at risk. Sakura hadn’t asked for any of this, and it was selfish of him to take so much from her and give her nothing but trouble in return.

“I can manage,” he said. She placed a strange-feeling container in his lap, and he reached inside with his fingers, tearing himself off a piece of fish and popping it into his mouth.

Sakura’s weight settled down into the mattress again. “How does your head feel?” she asked.

Madara chewed his cold fish, pondering her question. His head didn’t ache, and he felt none of that darkness that had plagued him before. His body hurt, though, tension in all of his muscles, though the excursion in the bathtub had loosened him a little bit.

“It’s fine,” he said, reaching for more food.

“No pain?” she asked incredulously. “None at all?”

He shook his head. He ate in silence for a moment. Sakura was suspiciously quiet, but her presence next to him on the bed gave him comfort, so he didn’t press her for conversation.

Sakura yawned, and he felt the mattress creak beneath them as she stretched. A bone somewhere in her body popped.

“Tired?” he asked her, a grin tugging at his lips.

“I haven’t slept much,” she explained. “I wasted a lot of chakra on reconstructing your brain.”

Madara reached beside him and pulled back the blanket on the empty side of the bed, patting it to welcome her. “Come lie down,” he said.

Sakura put up no fight, to his absolute surprise. Her weight disappeared from the bed, and a second later she had come around to the other side and slipped down beneath the blanket. “You have no idea how tempting it was to climb into this bed at night,” she said as she settled herself down against the pillow. “I was starting to get sick of the bedroll.”

Madara’s hand froze as he picked at his fish. “You know I wouldn’t have minded,” he said to her.

“It was dangerous,” she explained. “Your head needed to be kept so still to avoid undoing all my work. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

She yawned again and then let out a contented sigh. Madara reached out with his chakra, prodding at her weaker one. She was extremely vulnerable right now, too, he realized. She’d spent herself up trying to fix his head, and with his eyesight gone he wasn’t exactly in a position to protect her if she needed it.

Not that he thought she would need it, but it was a tough position they were in now.

He fumbled for the nightstand beside the bed, smoothing his hand over the wood to find a place to set down the rest of his fish. He rolled onto his side, facing Sakura, and searched for her hand beneath the blanket. When he found it, he lifted it up to his face, resting her fingertips against his temple.

“I have to trust you, don’t I?” he asked softly. “You’re the only person who can fix my eyes.”

Sakura made a soft sound with the back of her throat. Her fingers twitched where they rested on his brow. “I don’t know if I can fix your eyes, Madara,” she said. “I’d have to take a look to see what the problem is.”

“So look,” he said sliding his leg closer to hers. His knee brushed against her leg, and she curled her body in toward hers a little bit.

Maybe he shouldn’t be willingly letting her inside his head, but nothing she could do would be worse than being blind forever.

“Are you sure?” she asked a little breathlessly, her other hand already coming up to meet the side of his face.

He nodded into her hand and inhaled the scent of her – the same cheap soap he’d used, her arousal, and faintly the smell of cucumbers.

Chakra flooded immediately into his head, everywhere all at once, expanding, exploring, lighting up his entire brain.

Sakura’s shock was audible and immediate. She gasped, and suddenly she was on top of him, her fingers pressed tighter against his head, legs straddling his waist. She laughed, and Madara could only hope that was a good sign as his hands came up to her hips and held on. She laughed some more, her chakra receding as she leaned back a little bit, though she kept her hands on her face.

“Am I a fucking idiot?” she asked herself, still laughing, which now sounded a little manic and brought Madara a little closer to fear and confusion.

He waited, hoping his vision would return to him at any moment, and her idiocy was just some small oversight on her part.

“Your brain,” she said. “It’s totally fine. Like nothing ever even happened.”

That was good, Madara thought, though he was hesitant to believe his brain had ever been mush to begin with. It had certainly felt like mush when he’d been in all that pain, but again, nothing was making any sense, and he was beginning to grow irritated with it.

“Can you fix my eyes?” he asked.

“Open them,” she said, and he didn’t even realize they’d been closed. He opened them, expecting his vision to have returned, but he saw only darkness. Then, her chakra was in his head again, and she loomed closer to him. He could feel her breath on his face and knew that kissing her would be as easy as lifting his head up.

“Activate your Sharingan, please,” she said, so he obeyed. Nerves behind his eyes tightened, feeling as though they might snap with the strain. Sakura’s cooling chakra surrounded them immediately. The tension disappeared.

And then a pinprick of light. It grew larger slowly, spreading across his field of view. The first thing he noticed was green – an ocean, sea glass, a perfect set of twin marbles each harboring their own universe. Both orbs were intently focused on him, which brought his attention to the next most beautiful color he’d ever seen – pink. Her mouth, her hair, which was wet only at the tips, her glowing cheeks that were appled in a happy smile.

He blinked and let his eyes wander down to the rest of her. Her robe had fallen open, which she might not have cared about before when he couldn’t see it. Her breasts were on display for him, that same pink on her nipples, which were hardened into little peaks in the chilly air. He stared for a minute, wondering if he was just really lucky to have her with him here, the first thing he saw after his frustrating blindness.

She didn’t need to wonder if his vision had returned. She could see it in the way he looked at her, and Madara knew it. Her cheeks were adorably red, her eyes locked onto his. She made no move to cover herself, and Madara fought the urge to reach up and touch her in all the places she was so deliciously exposed.

“Your eyes have special nerve receptors in them that normal eyes don’t,” she explained, though he was only half listening. “I’ve theorized about the way they work before because I’ve unfortunately not been able to see it in action – at least not with an Uchiha. When you take another Uchihas eyes, you literally only have to put it in the socket and your eye will do the rest. For the rest of us, we’d need surgery to successfully transplant a Sharingan. It looks like the nerves in your eye just needed to be reconnected.”

“What, you mean as if I weren’t an Uchiha?” Madara asked, growing more and more curious.

“Sort of,” she said. “I think whatever caused damage to your brain also damaged the nerves around your eyes. But it was easy enough for me to fix, wasn’t it?”

Madara frowned, unsure that she wasn’t tricking him in some way. For all he knew, she might have the ability to blind and un-blind him at will. She could have planned this entire ruse just so he would willingly let her inside his head.

But she wasn’t inside his head now. His vision was restored, and she was staring down at him with obvious relief, and her smile seemed so genuine that he’d be crushed to learn it was just for show.

“I saw the moon again,” he said, the words tumbling out of him. “Before the pain. It blinded me. It felt a lot like a genjutsu.”

Sakura’s brow furrowed, and she leaned back on her heels, which brought her warm, naked crotch a lot closer to Madara’s manhood. He tensed for a second, but Sakura didn’t seem to notice.

“So this all must be some sort of illusion or jutsu, then,” she postulated. “But who could be doing this to you?”

Madara shook his head. No Senju would have the ability to do something like this. If it was a genjutsu, then it was an elaborate one – one only an Uchiha, or something of equal prowess could perform.

But any enemy of his would certainly not have wanted him to end up with this little pink-haired kunoichi by his side. Did they even realize what a powerful tool they’d led him to?

He glanced around the room – his first real look at it. It was a simple room with nothing but a bed, dresser, and two nightstands. There were two doors, one for the bathroom, and one that presumably led out into the inn. On the opposite wall was a large window, just wide enough that Madara could see the clear, inky sky. Stars sparkled at him from beyond the glass as if they were winking.

“We need to chart the moon,” he said. “I’m sure it has something to do with all this.”

Sakura murmured her agreement, following his gaze to the window. Madara stared at her profile, wondering if maybe she had something to do with all this, too. Perhaps the moon was trying to tell him something.

A flash of light from the window drew his attention. He looked over and saw stars streaking across the sky. Sakura stood and moved toward the window. It gave him some comfort to know that she was seeing it too. He got up and followed her, standing over her shoulder as she pressed her fingertips against the glass.

“Falling stars,” he murmured, a little confused to see so many of them darting across the sky like little fireflies or strikes of lighting.

“A meteor shower,” Sakura said, “but there’s not supposed to be…”

She fell silent and they both began to watch the sky with rapt attention. There was no moon in the sky, and Madara felt grateful for that. Sakura seemed mesmerized – he could see her reflection in the glass, and she was far more mesmerizing than the stars, her eyes glowing so prettily like that.

As they stared through the glass, he felt Sakura lean back against him, the back of her head resting against his chest. He hoped she didn’t hear the way his heartbeat jumped in his chest. He wasn’t used to this kind of affection, though his instinct was to wrap his arms around her waist and settled his chin on the top of her head.

“Do you miss home?” Sakura asked. Immediately following her question, she yawned. Madara smirked with amusement, waiting for her to finish before he answered her.

“I miss my brother,” he said, “and I even miss Hashirama. I miss the normalcy of things before. Everything feels so uncertain and illogical here. I just want all this to be over.”

Sakura hummed in acknowledgement and Madara felt the sound vibrate through his chest. “You know I thought you being sent here was fate,” she said softly. “I legit just got serious about curing the Curse of Hatred, and then, boom. You’re here.”

Madara was silent. He didn’t like this topic of discussion.

“But you’re really suffering here and I hate that,” she continued. Her eyes met his through the reflection in the glass, and Madara’s fingers found their way to her waist, clinging to the fabric of that dingy robe. “The pain in your head must be unimaginable sometimes. Would it even be worth it? Fate couldn’t have meant for this. Even if I could study you for a cure, I wouldn’t have wanted fate to bring you here only for you to feel all this pain.”

Madara’s brow furrowed, and he fought the urge to spin her around to face him. He wanted to see her eyes directly, and touch her face, and kiss her on the mouth.

“I’m a criminal,” he said. “Maybe I deserve it.”

“No,” Sakura laughed, though he wasn’t sure if she was contesting the criminal part of the deserving it part.

The stars that streaked across the sky began to dwindle. Madara couldn’t keep his gaze on them because something about Sakura held his gaze, almost against his will. Could she have meant all those things? She was just one more thing about this whole mess that made no sense.

“I wish I knew how to help you,” she said.

He wanted so badly to believe that was true. He wanted to trust her because she was just so soft and pretty and sincere and compassionate. He’d never known anyone quite like her, which was all the more reason not to trust her.

His mind flittered over everything he knew of her so far – apprentice to the Hokage, greatest healer in the world, teammate to the sole surviving Uchiha. But beneath those things, she had healed his hand after destroying it when she’d had no reason to. She’d brought him clothes and a bedroll and dango, though she had no reason to care for his personal comfort.

Some of that he could attribute to her femininity – the softness and tenderness that women had that men often lacked. But she was still a kunoichi, and a dangerous one at that. He couldn’t believe that she’d put his interests in front of Sasuke’s, or even her own.

“What if I can’t be helped?” he asked.

Sakura’s brow furrowed. “The curse’s effects are often brought on by external causes,” she said with confusion. “You can control that, to some extent. You’re never beyond help. If that were true, I’d have no hope for Sasuke.”

“No,” he said, scowling at the mention of Sasuke. “I meant what if I can’t get back to my time and I’m stuck here for the rest of my life?”

“Oh.”

She twisted her lips and brought her gaze up higher to the stars that were left in the sky. Only a few were still falling. The world felt like it was settling, like some windstorm had swept every celestial body up into a tornado that was now fading away, dropping them all back into place.

“Would that be so bad?” she asked. “I mean I know you’d miss your brother, but…”

He closed his eyes, trying not to see Izuna’s face in his mind.

“There’s nothing here for me,” he said bitterly.

Sakura seemed startled by his words. His body felt a little tingly with nerves – he could feel his fingers shaking, so he let go of Sakura’s robe. She turned to face him and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I’m not your problem, Sakura,” he said. “Tomorrow you can go back to Konoha, or wherever you want. I think I need to figure this out on my own.”

“But—”

He cut her off by sweeping her up off her feet and into his arms. It would be much easier to focus on the task at hand without this little temptress distracting him. He should have gotten rid of her a long time ago, but he had been too selfish.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he said, happy to have one last chance to slide into bed with her. “You need to restore your chakra.”

She made no protest, but the look of concern in her eyes cracked his heart. This was for the best.


	19. Chapter 19

When Madara woke, there was a head pressed against his chest and a leg casually thrown over his waist. He felt a warm smile tug at his lips. His hand came up to her shoulder, pressing her body against his for just a minute. He opened his eyes and found that during the night her robe had come completely open, though it still covered her arms.

The rest of her was so enticingly exposed to him, but he could see that she was still asleep, so he closed his eyes again. Judging by the darkness in the room, it was still nighttime, and he could use a little more time next to her before he sent her away forever.

Something pricked at the back of his head – his senses, not that darkness that often crept to him. He didn’t feel anger, just a little sadness, a little hopelessness. But the feeling persisted, and after a moment, Madara sat up, a little perturbed. He was mindful of Sakura, making sure she was still comfortable and asleep.

And then he felt it – a weak, but rapidly approaching chakra signature.

They were still in the inn. He couldn’t be sure that whoever it was wanted anything to do with them at all, but he didn’t want to take the risk. Not with Sakura here.

He glanced toward the window. He could see from here that cloud cover had rolled across the sky. No moon or stars were visible. He sat still for a moment, just feeling with his chakra, listening for anything suspicious.

It was a second later that Sakura woke up, and there was panic in her movements, franticness in her eyes. She flailed her arms about, her legs twisting in the blankets. “Madara?” she asked, her voice trembling until he found her hand and held it. He was glad that for once it had been his name that came out of her mouth, still emerging from her cocoon of sleep.

“I’m here,” he said, gripping her fingers with his. “Someone’s coming.”

“It’s Sasuke,” she said, her body relaxing a little bit. She squeezed his hand with a death grip, and he guessed by the sheen of sweat on her forehead that she might have been having unpleasant dreams.

“Sasuke?” he asked with confusion. He remembered the peculiarity of Sasuke’s chakra signature. It felt nothing like that now – just a normal, if insanely weak chakra signature.

It sped closer toward them. Madara could already feel it somewhere in the building, and then he knew. Sasuke was coming to Sakura to be healed. That weakness, it could only have been a result of his fight with his brother. He’d come back to Sakura because he was dying.

Sakura seemed to realize this too. She flung the blanket from her legs and lurched up onto her feet. Madara was in front of her in an instant, gripping her shoulders and pinning her arms to her sides.

“Sakura, calm down for a second,” he said, feeling a weird desperation, though he didn’t know what for. “Sasuke is dangerous. He threatened to kill you, remember?”

“So did you,” she said calmly, though not like an accusation.

Madara couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “He’s unhinged,” he argued. “The Curse, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” she snapped. “That’s why I have to—”

The doorknob rattled sharply, the entire door rocking on its hinges. Sakura let out an ‘eep’ and tied her bathrobe more modestly around herself. Madara found himself repressing the urge to roll his eyes again. He walked to the door and jerked it open, displeased to have been interrupted during the precious few hours he had left with Sakura.

Sasuke stood on the other side of the threshold. His eyes were heavy-lidded and he clutched at what was very clearly a fatal wound in his stomach. Blood poured from it, seeping through his fingers and dripping onto the floor at their feet. He wavered unsteadily for a moment before collapsing forward into Madara’s chest.

With a disgusted grunt, Madara caught him. No sooner than he was in his arms did Sakura zip forward, hands alit with chakra. She helped Madara pull him into the room and shut the door.

“Get his clothes off,” she instructed, sounding authoritative, clinical, the opposite of how she’d sounded when she first awoke. “Lay him down on a towel.”

Madara gave her an incredulous look. He had absolutely no desire to strip the little brat of his clothes, or help her get him all patched up. He looked like he was a goner, anyway. Even Madara knew that he’d lost far too much blood.

But he did as he was told anyway, certain that there must be at least one good reason to keep Sasuke alive, even if he couldn’t think of it right now.

Sakura pulled her pack alongside Sasuke, now just in his boxers. Madara winced seeing the gaping wound in his abdomen. Whatever had put it there had charred his skin, and Madara could see lingering vestiges of chakra there.

Sakura’s hands pressed into his chest. She reached straight through into that gaping hole, fingers curling and prodding around the exposed organs Madara wasn’t able to identify. He looked away in disgust, his eyes flitting up to Sakura’s face.

She leaned over Sasuke, her eyes focused and concerned. Her chakra signature was still weak. She hadn’t slept long enough to recover it fully. He could see from her face that she was determined to save Sasuke, and wouldn’t hesitate to risk her own life to do it. She had that kind of compassion – Madara had witnessed it firsthand, and she felt far more strongly for Sasuke than she did for him.

“What can I do to help?” he asked, hoping that by appeasing her and helping her, he could make the process easier. He couldn’t just force her to stop.

Her eyes flicked up to his. His heart stopped for a moment. He had forgotten how utterly captivating her gaze could sometimes, and there was something different about it now. It was visceral and dark and pleading, and it made his heart lurch back into beating, harder and almost painful now.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” she said, and her voice was grave, but clinical and strong and Madara suddenly admired her ability to remain calm and focused in spite of what must have been her unimaginable fear.

“I need some of yours.”

Madara swallowed, glancing down at Sasuke’s face. It was pale and round, juxtaposed starkly against his dark hair that had somehow been matted down with blood. It made Madara feel sick to look at him and see the resemblance he shared with Izuna. He may have been a brat, but he was still an Uchiha – the last one alive. It was Madara’s responsibility to save him.

“Okay,” he said to Sakura. Her shoulders sagged with obvious relief. He hadn’t even realized she’d had such tension in her, and it comforted him to know that his decision made her feel better.

She pulled her hands from Sasuke’s chest and reached into her pack for a needle. It was attached to some sort of clear tube that connected to a plastic pouch. He begrudgingly held out his arm for her, wrist up.

“You carry that around with you all the time?” he asked.

“It’s useless to someone without medical nin-jutsu knowledge,” she said, her bloodied fingers tying a strip around his arm. “Blood transfusions cause a very high risk of infection, and dangerous, fatal ones at that. With chakra, the risk is minimal, though the process is tedious. It’s standard for medic-nins to carry these on the field since blood loss is so common in battle.”

She glanced up at his face as she prepped the needle. He leveled his eyes with hers. He felt the needle prick through his skin and watched as the tube turned red with his blood.

When the pouch was full, Sakura gently pulled the needle out of his arm and gave him an affectionate rub with her thumb where the prick had been. “You might want to go back to bed,” she said, her voice soft again. “This might take a while.”

Madara scoffed, but stood up and moved away from her when she returned her hands to Sasuke’s innards. He sat down on the bed and stared through the window into the night sky. Morning was only a couple of hours away now.

Sasuke’s presence here might not be such a bad thing, he thought. While Sakura was certainly a stroke of luck to have happened upon, Sasuke was the only one who might know more about the secrets of the Uchiha clan. He was part of the main family, and now the sole survivor. If there was anything in the clan’s archives that might help Madara get back to the past, Sasuke was the only person who could help him get it.

Provided that Itachi was dead, of course. Madara’s gaze drifted back to Sasuke. He wondered what the relationship between the two of them was really like. He couldn’t imagine fighting Izuna to the death. It made a heavy, sickening cloud weigh down against his chest.

He blinked, realizing that Sasuke’s emotions were probably even more intense now after the fight. It was no wonder that he’d been pulled into such a dark place by his curse. The amount of betrayal and hatred and frustration he must have felt toward his own brother for doing something so heinous… Madara couldn’t even imagine. And now, here he was, dying, with nothing to show for all that effort, all that pain he endured to be able to kill the brother he once loved.

Sasuke would be dangerous when he awoke. His curse would affect him more strongly. Even Sakura’s tender hands wouldn’t be able to calm a rage like that. It would awaken his Mangekyou, Madara thought with horror.

Madara began to pace the floor, unsure of what else he could do. Sakura didn’t seem to notice his movement. He could feel her chakra signature fluttering and it made him feel nauseous. He didn’t want to look at them. There was nothing comforting about Sasuke’s bloody, pale body or Sakura’s determined stare.

The seconds seemed to tick by so slowly, and Madara grew impatient. He was gradually filling with a simmering anger, though he was surprised to find that the dark cloud that would certainly have swept into his head by now was mysteriously absent. Could that have had something to do with his head exploding and turning into mush?

If Sakura was right, and that dark cloud was a manifestation of his curse, then that meant Sasuke would feel it, too.

“Sakura,” Madara said, his gaze flicking to the back of her head. She shushed him, and he narrowed his eyes at her, though he knew she couldn’t see it.

Madara knew from experience how painful and enraging that dark cloud could be. If Sasuke woke up feeling like that… Then he needed to prepare for the inevitable attack he would wage on whatever or whomever was near. Sakura would certainly be in no position to defend herself.

He should go outside and train or spar or something. He should restock his pouch with supplies or sharpen the ones he had. He glanced at Sasuke again in frustration. His skin was regaining its pallor and the hole in his abdomen was closing, though he still looked quite frail.

Madara pulled a kunai from his pack. There was nothing to sharpen it with here so he idly twirled it around his finger while he waited. He resumed pacing, feeling sicker and sicker by the second.

When he felt Sakura’s chakra signature dip out of existence for a moment, he felt a clawing panic in his throat. He was at her side a second later, crouched on one knee so he could peer at her face.

“I’m fine,” she said, not bothering to look up at him. He knew that she wasn’t.

“Is his condition stable?” he asked, trying to sound stern but not overbearing. “Maybe you should rest for a minute.”

She shook her head. “I’m almost done,” she said, but it didn’t matter that she was almost done because it felt like she was almost dead.

But then he noticed the little rhombus on her forehead begin to glow faintly. He blinked, making sure it wasn’t some trick of the light. Dark lines erupted from it, making their way down her face and neck, dipping beneath her robe and reappearing on her legs and arms.

Madara watched in fascination, Sharingan whirling to pick up whatever jutsu it might be. He realized then that it was a seal, and behind it was a massive amount of chakra. He felt it leaking through the air, funneling into Sasuke rapidly.

Almost as if it were being sucked out of her…

“Sakura,” he said, curling his fingers around her wrist and pulling them away from Sasuke’s body.

She jolted and then the lines on her body began to retract, chakra spiraling with it. He held onto her arm, eyes wide while he watched her seal reform itself with what chakra was left. When the black lines were gone, her body pitched to the side and Madara caught her, his chest feeling heavy.

“Sakura,” he said again, pressing his palm to her cheek. She was breathing, thankfully, but her chakra signature was now far too weak, as was her pulse.

He held onto her, trying to figure out what he should do without panicking.

Sasuke gasped for breath, the sound filling the room like an explosion. Madara’s eyes came back to him, clutching Sakura against his chest. Sasuke’s groaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he braced himself against a wave of pain. His hands came to his stomach with stuttering movements, his bones audibly creaking.

When his eyes opened, Madara felt a chill go deep through his spine. Mangekyou Sharingan.

“What…” Sasuke groaned again, his hands flying toward his head. He let out a pained cry, palms pressed against his eyes.

The darkness. Madara could recognize it plain as day. Sasuke was suffering.

Before he could rouse himself fully, Madara lifted Sakura up into his arms and carried her over to the bed. Her breathing was even, and though her weakened pulse gave him pause there was nothing he could do about it.

Once she was safely tucked into the bed, Madara whirled on Sasuke. He was still trying to gather his bearings. Tears streaked down his face, cutting a muddy path through the dirt and blood caked there. He was quite a sight all curled up, crying, practically bathed in his own blood, and probably some of his brother’s as well.

It almost made him feel a pang of sympathy for the little brat. Madara wasn’t really the sympathetic type, but Sasuke was family – the only family he had here in this future.

“You’re upset,” Madara said. Sasuke’s eyes flicked to his and Madara had to physically repress the urge to flinch. Those eyes were so striking, and he knew exactly how powerful they could be in the right head. “My suggestion is to think of something pleasant,” Madara continued, feigning nonchalance that he did not feel. “It keeps the curse at bay.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed on him, which would only make his head hurt worse.

“What are you doing with Sakura?” Sasuke demanded.

Madara nearly laughed. Just pulled back from the brink of death, but he was still all business.

“She’s got a specific set of skills,” Madara explained with a Hashirama-level amount of patience. “It was almost as if she were tailor-made to fit beside an Uchiha. Though I’m sure you already knew that.”

Sasuke’s scowl faltered and his gaze drifted to the pink-haired girl sleeping in the bed.

“She nearly killed herself trying to save you.”

Sasuke looked back to Madara, his gaze stony and unreadable. He tried to pull himself up into a sitting position, but judging by the way he growled and braced himself against the floor it was too painful.

“I don’t think she was finished healing you, but she’s conked herself out,” Madara said. “I’m sure I won’t be able to stop her from finishing when she wakes up.”

Silence settled over the room. Sasuke watched Sakura while Madara watched Sasuke. After a few beats of silence, a lilting splatter of rain began to beat against the window. A waxing morning light was beginning to filter through the dirty glass, though it was dappled by the coming storm.

“Did you kill Itachi?” Madara asked.

Sasuke didn’t look away from Sakura, but he nodded.

“Did it bring you the peace you wanted?”

Sasuke said nothing in response, but Madara noticed the way his jaw clenched and unclenched. His eyes glazed over for a moment, and then his Sharingan faded away into a familiar shade of charcoal black.

“What are you doing here?” Sasuke asked, and Madara was startled by the way his voice was so toneless, devoid of any kind of feeling at all.

“I wish I knew,” Madara confessed.

Sasuke made another noise with the back of his throat. Madara was sure he was in a lot of pain now, and a bit surprised that he was even conscious. A more gracious man might have offered him the bed, but Sakura was in it, which meant that Madara wanted Sasuke to be nowhere near it.

Of course it didn’t matter because a second later Sasuke’s head hit the floor with a loud thud, his eyes drifting shut with a flutter. Madara sighed and approached him to see if he was alright. He checked Sasuke’s pulse with two fingers against his neck. It was weak, but still there.

For Sakura’s sake, he hoped Sasuke would be okay. He turned back to face her. She looked troubled, even in her sleep. Madara hesitantly slipped back into the bed beside her. Sleep would definitely not come to him now. He was too alert, too high-strung with Sasuke’s presence to feel comfortable.

But there was nowhere else to sit, and he rather liked the idea of Sasuke waking up to find the two of them in bed together.

He didn’t touch her, though, as he reclined himself back against the headboard. She needed rest, and even if he couldn’t sleep, Madara needed it, too.

///

Sakura stirred a few hours later. The sun had risen, though the cloud cover and rain kept it nice and dark in their little room. She sat up groggily, pushing her bangs out of her face as the last wisps of sleep curled away from her.

“Oh,” she said, seeing Madara’s face looking down at her. Her robe had fallen open again, and Madara made a strong effort to keep his eyes on her face. “You’re bleeding,” she said, her brow furrowed while her gaze was roving over his chest.

Madara glanced down at himself, remembering how Sasuke had fallen against him.

“Not mine,” he said, pointing to the other Uchiha in the room, who was still sleeping on the floor.

Sakura’s gaze followed, and her body went rigid as a board when it fell on Sasuke. She lurched over the side of the bed before Madara grabbed her and pulled her upright again.

“Not so fast,” he said. He reached for the tie of her robe and cinched it a little tighter. “Okay, now you can go.”

The look she shot him was an endearing mix of confusion, sleep-haze, and irritation. She vaulted back over the bed and landed near Sasuke’s side. Her hands pressed against his chest, glowing and surging their healing chakra into his body. Madara watched with his Sharingan. 

“You could have at least put a blanket over him,” she mumbled.

“I stripped him of his clothes and let you heal him even though it nearly killed you,” he replied coolly. “There’s only so much you can expect from a man.”

Sakura said nothing. She was perfectly still and silent for a moment, save for the ebbing flow of chakra that poured from her hands. When she finished, she stood up and yanked the blanket off of Madara’s legs and placed it gently over Sasuke.

“Sakura, I need to ask you something,” he said, unperturbed by her spurt of aggression. She turned to look at him. “Is that dark cloud in Sasuke’s head, too? The curse, I mean. Is it worse than mine?”

She shrugged and heaved a sigh as she sat down at the foot of the bed. “I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t look. I know how you Uchihas are about people messing around in your head.”

“Well, look,” he said. “He’s asleep.”

“Madara,” she said admonishingly. “How would you feel if I did that to you?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t,” he said. “I won’t believe you.”

She grinned at him and he moved across the bed to sit closer to her. He situated himself with his legs crossed, facing her.

“I thought about it,” she said softly. “When we were in that bedroll together. Hmm, it was really tempting being so close to all that potential information. But I was far too scared of you to try it.”

Madara stared at her in silence. Considering the position he was now in. The biggest threat to his clan in his own time or this one was the Curse of Hatred. Even if he went back in time and defeated Hashirama, or chose to stay in the village, the curse was still going to haunt him.

It haunted him even now. His gaze flicked to Sasuke again. That poor boy was in even more pain than he was. Madara couldn’t imagine anything worse than that sickening cloud that poisoned his thoughts and seared the inside of his skull. If there was even the slightest chance that it could be cured, that the Uchiha clan could be saved… shouldn’t he take it?

“Sakura,” Madara said, and Sakura immediately straightened her back at the serious tone of his voice. “How confident are you that you can cure the Curse of Hatred?”

Her gaze became suddenly sharp and it penetrated right through to Madara’s core. “I can cure it,” she said with pure conviction. “And I will.”

It all clicked into place. Sakura had been right all along. It was fate. It was the only explanation. All this time he’d been resisting her (sort of). She had known so quickly. She’d seized this opportunity so rapidly. He had been an enemy to her when they met. She’d called for backup and everything.

Yet she had been willing to risk so much to come with him. She was determined, but she had never pressed him about lurking around in his mind. She had respected his boundary in spite of it being the sole reason she had come with him in the first place.

“I want to help you,” he said. “You can do your research on me or whatever.”

Sakura’s eyes widened and a sudden strike of lightning lit her up, as well as the room around her. “Are you serious?” she asked lowly, as if Madara would ever joke about something like that.

“Of course I’m serious,” he said heatedly. “I don’t want to end up like that.” He jerked his head in Sasuke’s direction. “You have no idea what this kind of pain feels like.”

Sakura looked over at Sasuke, her face crinkled as if she might cry. She didn’t. She turned back to Madara and regained her composure.

“It’s not going to be an easy process,” she said. “It’ll take time. I’ll need to find us some temporary housing and we’ll have to—”

“Yes, fine,” he said. “Whatever it takes.”

Sakura closed her mouth, looking rather disrespected. Something in the air had shifted and everything just felt right now. This was a goal he could work toward. Whether it got him back to his time or not, it would save the Uchiha clan.

Madara was sure of it.

“You were right,” he said to Sakura, a half smile pulling at his lips.

“I was right?” she asked, bewildered.

“This was fate.” He leaned forward and kissed her, a little pleased with himself for that great timing. It wouldn’t feel so shameful to kiss and flirt with her now that he was sure they were meant to meet like this.

She leaned into him for a fraction of a second, her fingers twisting into his shirt before they straightened out and pushed him away. Her panicked gaze flicked toward the still sleeping Sasuke.

“If you want privacy we can go back to the bathtub,” Madara offered with a teasing grin.

“Oh, yeah, you owe me one, don’t you?” she teased back, and Madara felt himself stiffening just at the thought.

Then her gaze became softer, more withdrawn. Madara felt the smile slip from his face, his heart sinking at the sight. He nearly reached out to touch her face, to push her cheeks back into that pretty smile.

“Do you trust me now?” she asked.

She seemed to suspect that his answer would still be no, but Madara wasn’t really sure how to feel. Could a person ever be trusted completely? The only person Madara trusted whole-heartedly was Izuna. Their bond was unbreakable, unwavering. Was something like that even possible outside of clan? 

“I trust that you want what’s best for the Uchiha clan, and that you can do as you claim,” he answered. “This feels like the right thing to do.”

“Yeah,” Sakura agreed with a nod. “It does.”

Another bolt of lightning struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And y'all were scared I'd separate them.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boop. Hit you with a bonus chapter.

By the time it had stopped raining, Sakura had checked on Sasuke nearly a thousand times. Whatever chakra she replenished went straight back into healing him, and it was beginning to get on Madara’s nerves.

Sasuke had fallen into a sort of coma. Sakura explained to Madara the shock trauma could leave the body in, and combined with his injuries it was a surprise that he’d been conscious long enough to make it here. He didn’t tell her that Sasuke had spoken to him before she had woken up.

Sakura moved his body to the bed, tucking him in with aching gentility. 

Madara’s teeth were clenched when she turned back to face him. “We’re just south of the Sound border,” she said. “There’s a town not far from here where I think I’ll be able to find us some decent housing. We should head there once Sasuke wakes up.”

“He’s coming with us?” Madara asked.

She shrugged as she glanced back at Sasuke’s face. “I’m not sure what he’ll want to do when he wakes,” she said. “It would be great if he did come. I’d get to see the curse in two different stages. I’m not going to get my hopes up, though.”

Madara said nothing.

“I’m going to run into the village really quick and see if I can scrounge up more supplies for the road,” she said after a minute. “Could you keep an eye on Sasuke until I get back?”

A scowl worked its way up to Madara’s face, but he relaxed it when he felt darkness pulling behind his temples. It seemed his reprieve from that curse was now over.

“Be quick,” he said.

She nodded and lifted her pack up onto her shoulders. Her eyes seemed to glitter when she looked up at him. There was a hint of a smile on her face. She took a step closer to him. “Thank you for helping me,” she said earnestly enough that Madara felt his cheeks and neck begin to warm. “Maybe it’s silly, but I’m glad to have a chance to get to know you better before you go.”

A smile tugged at his lips. The ache in his head seemed to disappear. Did she even realize that she could do that without her chakra?

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, because so far all the pleasure had been his. When she returned, he’d have to make sure to rectify that situation.

She stared at him for a minute longer, her eyes a little glazed, pulse fluttering in her delicate little neck. Her gaze drifted down to his mouth, which made him lean toward her, anticipating the kiss he knew she wanted to give him if only she weren’t so short or he weren’t so tall.

But she didn’t try. She stepped backwards, clearing her throat with adorable fluster. “I’ll be back,” she said, sidling past him to slip quietly through the door. Madara stared at the closed door for a minute, wondering if he’d now set himself up for an impossible to recover from kind of heartbreak.

He looked at Sasuke, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

Madara’s stomach growled. Sakura had said there was a restaurant downstairs. He didn’t have any money, but Sasuke probably did. Madara swiped Sasuke’s pants from the floor and rooted through the pockets until he’d found sufficient coin. Sasuke probably wouldn’t wake up while he was gone, at least he hoped. Now seemed as good a time as any to get himself something to eat.

///

When Madara returned to the room with an armful of paper sacks, he heard the water running in the bathroom. Sasuke was absent from the bed, but Madara still felt his chakra signature, weak, but undeniably there.

Madara took the opportunity to steal the bed – the only seating the room had to offer. He propped his back against the headboard and crossed his ankles, tucking into his food greedily. Everything tasted differently here – better, but in an almost sickening kind of way. There was so much salt and oil and decadence in every bite. It made him miss his mother for a moment, who had hadn’t seen since he was very young.

The water in the bathroom shut off and a moment later Sasuke emerged with his bloodied clothes back on, a gaping hole in the fabric around his ribs. He froze when he saw Madara lounging on the bed.

“Where is Sakura?” he asked.

“Getting supplies,” Madara said through a mouthful of food. “She’ll be back.”

Sasuke looked dubious as his eyes scanned the room. They fell on his torn, bloodied clothes, then on the paper sacks resting at the foot of the bed, and finally back to Madara.

“Here,” Madara said, toeing a paper sack forward. “Food. You should probably eat.”

The dubious look waned into confusion, and for a moment his expression was too heavy for Madara to look at. He wondered how Sasuke felt looking at him. Did he consider them family or was his presence here still something to be feared or rejected?

“Thanks,” Sasuke muttered, snatching up the paper sack and reaching inside.

“No need to thank me,” Madara said. “You paid for it.”

Sasuke’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing else as he sat himself down on the foot of the bed and began to eat.

They were quite a pair, Madara imagined. Two Uchihas, stretched across time to be sitting in the same room. They ate in silence, Sasuke’s back to Madara. It was tense, but not exactly uncomfortable.

“Did you come back from the dead?” Sasuke asked, breaking the terse silence.

Madara laughed. “That would be a cool trick,” he said, “but no. To be honest, I don’t know how I got here. I’m still trying to figure that out.”

Sasuke abruptly stood up, crumpling the empty paper sack and tossing it back onto the bed. “Well, hurry up and get back to wherever you came from,” he said. “You don’t belong here.”

A white-hot, simmering hatred boiled up in Madara’s chest. Sasuke began to walk toward the door, but Madara cut him off and shoved his chest roughly. Sasuke’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Madara looked away from the Mangeykou kaleidoscope in his eyes. It made the rage grow hotter, tighter, more painful and dark as it ripped up from his gut and into his head.

“Where the hell are you going?” Madara demanded. “Sakura’s going to be back—”

“You might answer to Sakura but I don’t,” Sasuke said. “Move out of my way.”

As if on cue, the door opened and Sakura slipped into the room, her arms brimming with packages and bags. The faint smile on her face dropped immediately when she saw the two Uchihas posturing in the room, four red eyes glinting in the rainy darkness.

“Sasuke, you’re awake,” she breathed. “How are you feeling?”

“Sakura, you need to go back to Konoha,” Sasuke said. “You have no business with me or any other Uchiha.” His gaze flicked to Madara, who felt that dark cloud growing thicker in his head.

“I’m just trying to help,” she said, dropping the parcels onto the bed. “I know you’re probably still in a lot of pain. I know how to—”

“You know nothing about my pain,” Sasuke snapped angrily, and Madara reached for Sakura instinctively, pulling her closer to his side. “This isn’t your curse or your burden to bear. You need to stay out of it. Go back to Konoha.”

“But, Sasuke…”

Sasuke said nothing, the clench of his jaw telling them everything they needed to know. He was too far gone, too angry, in too much pain. Good thing Sakura hadn’t gotten her hopes up.

He wrenched the door open, but Sakura pushed it back closed with the palm of her hand. “Wait,” she said, desperation clear in her voice. “Where will you go? You’re going to need more medical attention and—”

“It’s none of your concern,” Sasuke said. “Move out of my way.”

Madara reached for Sakura’s arm, hoping to prevent an altercation between the two of them. It was best to just let Sasuke go. His rage would only grow, making it that much harder to reason with him.

Sasuke grabbed onto the doorknob, reaching around Sakura to do so. It put them nearly chest to chest and it made Madara feel very sick. “Move,” he said again, his voice low and dangerous.

“I just want to know that you’re going to be okay,” she said softly. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, though they couldn’t be heard in her voice. Her hand came up to his chest. Madara watched in horror as her fingers curled into his charred fabric of his shirt and clung there. The greenish hue of glowing chakra he saw dancing across her fingers made him tense in preparation of a fight.

Madara didn’t know what she did to him, whether she funneled that chakra straight into his head to clear out the darkness, or she sent what she referred to as her ‘diagnostic’ chakra through him. It didn’t matter, though, because the second it entered Sasuke’s body, his hand was on her throat.

She didn’t seem choked, only surprised to find him holding her in such a way. Madara gave no time to deliberating whether or not he intended to hurt her before he’d grabbed onto Sasuke’s forearm and shoved it away, pushing Sakura behind his back.

He couldn’t blame Sasuke for that reaction – he’d had the same one, of course. Still, it was a primal instinct he felt to keep Sasuke and Sakura as far away from one another as possible. Sasuke was a loose canon and Sakura was too blinded by her affection for him to care.

“Just let him go, Sakura,” Madara warned, though his eyes were locked onto Sasuke’s, not caring that the Mangekyou blazed in them. Those eyes would begin to hurt soon. He wouldn’t be able to take that kind of pain. Madara had seen it happen to his father and countless other Uchiha elders. It was their curse.

But it also meant that Sasuke would likely come back. He’d come here for her services when the pain became too much to bear, or his vision started to deteriorate, he would come back. He would realize what a treasure he almost let slip away.

Sasuke didn’t wait for Sakura’s response before he jerked the door open and fled. He left the door open and it swung on its hinges until it bounced back against the wall. Madara slammed it shut.

“That went better than expected,” Sakura said.

Madara whirled to look at her incredulously. His gaze fell to Sakura’s neck, which looked unmarred, but he couldn’t help but see the ghost of Sasuke’s hand there.

“He didn’t hurt me,” she said, seeing the direction of his gaze.

“Were you expecting him to?” he asked.

She shrugged, and he marveled at how she seemed to take this all in stride. “Maybe,” she answered. “I mean I wasn’t all that worried with you here, but I didn’t know how he would react to having his one goal accomplished.”

Madara felt his heart softening, though he felt a bit of anger with her for standing in Sasuke’s way like that if she knew it was a possibility that he would hurt her.

“I can heal his physical injuries,” she said, her voice low and dark now. “But how do I help him heal the emotional ones? He’s got to be in so much misery now, and I just wish I knew how to help him. I just want him to be happy.”

It was almost hard to believe that someone could have so much compassion for a person who caused them so much pain and heartache. The only reason Madara could believe it at all was because it seemed an awful lot like something Hashirama would do.

And Madara felt a stab of guilt for whatever actions he’d yet to commit that would lead to his death. He had forced Hashirama’s hand, forced him to kill his own best friend. Was that how Itachi had felt dying to his own brother? Was all of this killing and hatred and pain just because of the Curse? Maybe it was a good thing the Uchihas were almost gone. Maybe Tobirama was right…

The train of thought made Madara sigh. All that power had come with so many strings attached that it didn’t seem worth it.

“Don’t worry,” Sakura said, stepping closer to him her hands glowing with chakra. He allowed her to press her hands against his chest. “I’m going to fix all this one way or another.”

He believed her, only because she seemed to believe in herself. Sometimes it felt like the Uchiha clan was out of hope.

///

They set out for the next town in spite of the grey sky. It would rain again soon, and Madara hoped they’d make it to town before then. He followed Sakura’s lead, not caring as much this time that her pace felt too slow. Whenever their eyes met, she would smile for him, but they never quite reached her eyes. She was also silent, answering any of his questions with as few words as possible.

He let her keep to herself, though he was bothered by her distance. She was worried about Sasuke, and he understood that. He wondered how much harder she would have fought to keep Sasuke around if Madara hadn’t been there. It was an impressive amount of dedication she had for him.

Madara could admit that he was a little jealous. Would anyone ever care about him the way Sakura cared about Sasuke? She was risking a lot by being away from her village for so long. She was important there, and her absence had to have been something to worry over. Her Hokage should rightfully be angry to know that she was here of her own free will.

Not only that, but with a man like Madara. A criminal, a villain. He knew Sakura didn’t see him that way anymore, but aligning herself with him meant risking her own reputation.

All just to free Sasuke from his curse.

Ahead of him, Sakura stumbled. Her foot slipped from the branch she’d landed on and she tumbled down into the grass below.

Madara darted down after her. She had landed on her feet, her back toward him. She didn’t move for a second, but Madara saw that her shoulders were shaking.

“Sakura?” he asked. When she didn’t respond, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him. He was surprised to see tears on her face. She had been so quiet he hadn’t even realized she had been crying. “Hey, what’s the matter?” he asked her, though the question didn’t really need to be asked.

“Nothing,” she said, swiping at her eyes. “Well, a lot, but you know…” She sucked in a deep breath and composed herself. “Sorry, I was going to wait until we got to our cottage to cry, but I…”

“We have a cottage?” he asked.

“It’s a touristy little town,” she explained. “They have cottages for rent, and since it’s off-season I figured they’d be a safe bet for us to stay in unnoticed for a while. I imagine people will think we’re newlyweds, so that gives us good cover.”

Madara quirked a half-smile. He would certainly have fun making their cover believable.

“I see,” he said, reaching out with his thumb to brush a stray tear from her cheek. “And do you always schedule time to cry? I thought it was a rather impulsive act.”

She laughed and it rang out through the trees like a wind chime. “I don’t schedule it,” she explained. “I would just rather do it in privacy, you know? Haven’t you ever cried before?”

Madara couldn’t remember. Had he cried when his mother died? Or any of his siblings? He didn’t know.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Sakura gave him a confused, almost hurt look. It made his heart twist in his chest. “You should try it,” she said. “It’s cathartic, and I know you’ve got a lot of—” She cut herself off and shook her head. “Never mind,” she said. “When we get to the cottage, we can just put on some sad movies and cry.”

Madara had no idea what she was talking about, nor did he intend to cry. But Sakura looked contented by the idea, so he simply nodded in agreement.

So they leapt back up into trees together. Madara hovered a little closer to her now, listening more intently for her crying. He heard no sniffles from her, and by the time they’d neared the road into town, she seemed back to her usual self.

This town was larger than the village they’d just left, but nowhere near as big as Konoha. Still, its size was impressive to Madara, who’d never seen buildings like these, or roads so solid beneath his feet. It blew his mind that these little towns existed all across Fire Country.

As they entered the town, Madara understood why Sakura would bring them here. There were all kinds of people here from shinobi to civilians. They were vibrantly different from one another, which meant that Sakura wouldn’t stand out too much with her pink hair, and Madara’s eyes wouldn’t be of particular note to anyone.

“Who are all these people?” Madara asked her, confused by how all these people with varying skin tones, cultures, and lifestyles had come together in one place like this.

“Tourists,” Sakura said dryly. “Like I said, those cottages are for rent, and there’s all kinds of fun stuff to do around here. There’s a really pretty waterfall nearby with a hiking trail. There are flower fields where people can take pictures. There are these kitschy restaurants all over the place, and lots of venues for live music. There’s even a little market that sells all these cute handmade things to take home as souvenirs. This place is the very definition of a tourist trap.”

Madara murmured his acknowledgement, watching a group of girls with brightly colored hair pointing in his direction and giggling. He lifted his gaze up to meet one of theirs – a girl with blue streaks in her brown hair. She tittered and looked away demurely, but seemed unaffected by his Sharingan.

“They seem friendly,” he said.

“They’re all here to relax and have a good time,” Sakura explained as they approached a row of identical stone cottages lined up down the street. She steered them toward the very first one.

Though the outside looked like a cottage, the inside was setup like a bar. Sakura walked up to the counter. The elderly woman behind it smiled warmly at her and then at Madara. “Welcome, loves,” she said with her raspy, crackling voice. “Need a cottage?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sakura said. “We’d like to rent by the month, if that’s possible.”

“Sure thing, dear,” the old woman said. “You’re in luck. Our honeymoon cottage just became available.”

Madara glanced at Sakura, noting her pink cheeks with amusement. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “We’ll just take a standard cottage.”

“I’m afraid it’s the only one available,” the woman replied, glancing back at Madara. “’I’m sure you can put it to good use.”

Madara laughed and watched the tips of Sakura’s ears turn red. “Fine,” she said. She handed over a stack of bills, trading them for the brass key the old woman handed her in return.

“It’s the very last cottage on the street,” she said. “You’ll have a spectacular view.”

Sakura looked too flustered to care, but Madara was rather intrigued. A spectacular view of what? Sakura thanked the woman and dragged Madara back out into the street before he could ask.

She grumbled about expenses as they walked toward the end of the street. Madara thought she seemed rather grumpy for no reason. This place didn’t seem so bad, and he knew she didn’t think he was terrible company.

When they got to the end of the street, they found the largest cottage of all of them there. It’s exterior was built from gray stone, and its green roof slanted sharply into the sky. Sakura climbed the steep steps up to the front porch and inserted the brass key into the door’s lock.

“At least this place will probably have good amenities,” she said as she pushed the door open.

She entered the cottage and gasped. Madara entered and stood beside her, letting out an impressed whistle. The ceilings were lofted high with massive, looming windows allowing sunlight to pour into the room. The carpet beneath their feet was a rich, lush shag. The furniture was all shiny leather and dark stained wood. A giant fireplace adorned one wall while the opposite wall displayed a mural of incredibly detailed flowers.

“Holy shit,” Sakura said, walking the length of the room. It hadn’t seemed so large on the outside, but Madara thought this one room was the size of Sakura’s entire apartment.

They wandered into the kitchen, which was smaller but no less impressive. The countertops were gray and white marble. The walls were pure white, lined with pots and pans, and shelves of plates, bowls, and mugs. Sakura opened a few of the appliances, murmuring her astonishments to herself.

A hallway just off the kitchen led to two rooms, the first of which was the bathroom. Curious, Madara peered inside. His jaw nearly dropped at the sight of the bathtub – a far cry from the tiny one back at the inn. This one was so large it could easily fit four people inside. It was shaped like a heart and surrounded by all manner of bottles and jars filled with colorful beauty products. Candles lined the sill of the stained glass window.

A lecherous grin spread across Madara’s face. He could get very used to this place.

Sakura sidled up beside him to see, and he felt her stiffen at his elbow. He looked down at her, feeling grateful and amused and pretty lucky that this would be how he was going to spend his time here for now. Sakura’s cheeks were stained pink, but she seemed amused, too, which made Madara grin even wider.

“This might have been awkward if Sasuke had come along,” she said, and he was a little surprised that she would joke about Sasuke now, at the time when she had scheduled to cry over him.

“If the size of the tub is any indicator, I’m sure the three of us would fit just fine in the bed together,” Madara said.

Sakura tossed him an incredulous but still amused look before shrugged past him to look at said bedroom. Madara followed.

Exceeding Madara’s expectations, the bed was large enough that it took up most of the space in the bedroom (and it was not a small room by any means). It was covered with a sheer canopy that draped over four tall posts. The mattress was covered with red and purple silk, topped with plump pillows.

The walls were painted a rich burgundy color, accented by the black windows and white drapes. The furniture, a pair of nightstands and a tall armoire, were all painted black with gold hardware that glinted from the light of the crystal chandelier that hung just in front of the bed.

It was more opulence than Madara had ever seen before. Sakura seemed equally impressed, though he was sure she’d seen more than her fair share of luxury in this world. 

“Come on,” Madara said, lifting Sakura up onto his shoulder. She shrieked in surprise and tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he clung onto her. “Let’s break this bad boy in.”

“No, no, no,” Sakura said, sounding very maternal. “Put me down. We have business to take care of.”

Obediently, Madara set her down on her feet. “We do?”

She nodded. “I’m still pretty low on chakra, but I’d like to run a full diagnostic on your brain tonight,” she said. “It’ll help me decide what the next steps I’ll need to take are. And we’ll need to head back into town at some point so I can pick up a few things we might need if we’re going to be here for some time.”

“What things?” Madara asked, already feeling a little nervous about having her wheedle about in his brain.

“Clothes, for one,” she said. “We can’t run around this place in shinobi gear. We’ll call too much attention to ourselves. We’ll need to stock up on groceries, and I’m going to need some medical supplies. Hopefully there’s a clinic somewhere nearby.”

“Okay,” Madara said. “We’ll do all that stuff and then we’ll break in the bed.”

Sakura’s cheek reddened, but it seemed more so out of anger rather than embarrassment. “The great Madara Uchiha, with so many things to worry about, is still just an adolescent boy,” she said to herself.

“Hold on, little girl, I’m a man,” he said tersely. “A healthy, handsome one as I’m sure I don’t need to remind you.”

Sakura scoffed, but she was grinning in spite of it.

“Don’t call me a little girl.”

///


	21. Chapter 21

Errands were boring. Madara could hardly find it in himself to think that he actually missed being at home, being at war. It was dangerous and grueling and painful. Sakura was not there. How could he miss a place like that?

But he kind of missed it. He hadn’t fought anyone or sparred or trained in over a week. He could feel his muscles weakening from disuse, and he missed the fast pace and excitement being on the battlefield had to offer. While there were certainly some mental benefits to taking a break from all that, the physical aspect was starting to get to him.

As of now, the only exercise he’d gotten was carrying Sakura’s shopping bags through the market. It was almost humiliating being her pack mule, though he knew that she was buying things for the both of them. He had no money and she was being generous to purchase clothes, food, and lodging for him.

And she was carrying her fair share, too, so he couldn’t really blame her. After buying clothes, they’d headed to the market where Sakura had stocked up on all kinds of groceries, many of which Madara had never seen before – brightly colored packages of food that almost seemed inedible in their strangeness. Everything here seemed so vibrant, a little too vibrant. It was unnatural.

“Okay,” Sakura said, adding her latest parcel of wrapped vegetables to Madara’s pile. “Now all we need are some medical supplies and some writing utensils.”

She glanced around the street, pausing when she caught her eye on a small clinic tucked away on the closest corner. “I’ll just run inside and grab what I need really quick,” she said. “You stay here with the bags.”

Madara grumbled an affirmative, feeling rather grumpy now. He found a nearby bench and sat down, depositing the packages beside him. He watched Sakura walk to the clinic, his eyes lingered on her legs, her ass, that sinful little curve of her waist…

A sharp prick at his ankles drew his attention away from her. He glanced down at his feet and saw a little girl pulling on his leg hair. She had brown hair and eyes and impossibly pale skin. She looked no older than three or four, Madara thought.

“You’re hairy,” she said.

Madara shifted his feet away from her, letting his eyes spin to scare her away. Didn’t she have parents or something?

But she didn’t budge. She crouched down to the ground, inspecting Madara’s ankles closer. She tugged again at his hair. “Why are you so hairy?” she asked.

“I grow one hair for every little girl I kill,” Madara supplied.

The girl, lacking in any kind of self-preservation, stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re a meanie,” she said. “You need to go to time out.”

A slew of stinging retorts flurried through his mind. He knew better than to say them aloud to a little girl, but he wasn’t able to hide his scowl of irritation. He glanced back at the clinic. Sakura was nowhere in sight.

“Where are your parents?” he asked her.

“Where are your parents?” she parroted.

Madara’s scowl deepened and he was aghast to feel the dark cloud rising up in his head. Surely that was a bad sign that a mere child could evoke that feeling. It was no wonder he’d eventually succumbed to the curse.

At a loss for what to do, Madara reached into one of the paper sacks beside him and pulled out a peach. “If I give you this will you go away?” he asked.

The girl nodded eagerly, reaching for the peach. Madara handed it to her. She took a huge bite with her tiny little teeth and crossed her legs underneath her in the dirt.

“No, you’re supposed to leave now,” Madara said.

“No, you’re supposed to leave now.”

Thoroughly irritated, Madara crossed his arms and remained silent. The girl kept picking at his leg hair as she ate her peach, and Madara did his best to refrain from kicking her.

When Sakura finally emerged from the clinic, Madara stood up to greet her. The girl at his feet yanked hard on a leg hair, pulling it out at the root.

“Hey,” he snapped at her. “What the fuck are you—”

“Oh my god, are you yelling at a little kid?” Sakura asked, giving him a reproachful look.

“She stole a peach,” Madara said defensively.

“You gave it to me, hairy,” the girl said, taking another generous bite.

Sakura tittered and picked up the bags on the bench. “He is pretty hairy, isn’t he?” she asked the girl, much to Madara’s displeasure.

“And mean, too,” she said.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Sakura said. “This guy is a stone cold killer. You’d best stay far away from him.”

The girl’s eyes widened a little bit. Though she’d felt no fear at the sight of Madara’s Sharingan, she seemed sufficiently afraid of Sakura’s harrowing warning. She gave Madara a wary glance before she dropped her peach into the dirt and began to toddle away at as quick a pace as one can toddle.

“What did you tell her that for?” Madara asked grumpily, wondering why Sakura’s warning had worked when all of his menace hadn’t.

“I can’t have little girls fawning all over you while you’re here,” she answered. “It’s best if they give you a wide berth. I don’t know how intense this process will be and I don’t want to take the chance of you hurting any civilians if things go awry.”

Madara blinked, a little perturbed by that notion. He could control himself just fine for now, but was she implying that it might get out of control under her research?

“I think you’re just jealous,” he said as they began to walk back to the cottage.

“Oh, yeah,” Sakura agreed teasingly. “So jealous.”

///

Back at the cottage, Madara helped Sakura put away all their purchases. It felt rather strange to being doing such domestic things with her in such a romantic place, but rather than feeling weird about it, Madara decided to just enjoy it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all.

When they had finished, Sakura suggested they begin working on his brain.

“It won’t hurt or anything,” she said, seeing the look on his face. “I’m kind of sluggish and tired so I won’t do anything that requires a lot of precision or focus just yet. I just want to test the waters, see what I’m working with.”

“Okay,” he agreed begrudgingly. “Can we do it on the bed?”

She gave him a stern look but there was a ghost of a smile on her face.

“How about we go outside?” she suggested instead. “We haven’t checked out the balcony yet. We’re supposed to have a good view, remember?”

He didn’t argue only because she seemed genuinely excited to see the balcony. He followed her through the bedroom to the double doors that led onto the balcony. She drew the curtains away, allowing a flood of warm afternoon sun to pour through the glass.

Some kind of noise escaped her throat, and Madara pushed the doors open, shoving her out onto the balcony.

As far as the eye could see were rows and rows of sunflowers. They spread across the horizon, yellow and tall and vibrant. Beyond them were a cloudy blue sky and the orange sun that hung low in it. Madara laughed, leaning over the rail to peer down at the sunflowers down below. He was amazed by their sheer size. Some of them appeared at least ten feet tall.

He stood up and whirled to face Sakura, grinning from ear to ear. “If this isn’t a sign from the universe, I don’t know what is,” he said.

Sakura scoffed. “Yeah,” she said dryly. “I love remembering that time you punished me with sunburns.”

“Ah, come on now, Sunflower,” he said. “You love it. It lights you up, remember?”

“Shut up,” she said with absolutely no animosity. She pointed to the chaise that sat near the balcony’s rail. “Let’s get started.”

Obediently Madara sat down and reclined back, propping his head up against his hands. Sakura sat down beside him on the chaise, her hip warmly pressed against his ribs. Her fingers came to his temples, and maybe he imagined it, but he could have sworn she rubbed the pad of her thumb affectionately over his brow.

“It’s not going to hurt,” she said, “but it’ll feel strange. Don’t try to fight me, if you can help it.”

Madara tensed, unsure he was prepared for it.

Sensing his trepidation, Sakura funneled soothing chakra into his head first. It pushed back against the bit of darkness that lurked in his head and alleviated the pressure that was building against his skull. Her body was perfectly still. She closed her eyes. Madara clenched his fist at his side, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her.

Then he felt a sharpness, a prickling in the back of his brain. It sent a violent, uncontrollable shiver down Madara’s spine. Sakura’s right hand slid down the back of his head and brushed his hair aside so she could cup the back of his neck. He felt a tingling sensation down the entire length of his spine, electric and bizarre.

She abruptly pulled away and reached into her pocket. “I need to put your hair up,” she said. She yanked on his hair until it all fit nicely into her hand and then roughly tied it with a red ribbon.

“Why don’t you braid it, too?” Madara muttered.

She glanced up at him, her eyes filled with mirth. “Could I?”

Madara couldn’t speak for a moment, captivated by her gaze and her closeness. Her eyes glimmered in the golden sun. Her hair rippled in the warm breeze. He could see the reflection of fields of sunflowers in the glass door behind her.

Sakura took his silence in stride. She closed her eyes again and cupped the back of his neck with one hand. The other came to his temple, her palm resting on his cheek.

The tingling returned to his spine so suddenly that Madara winced in surprise. Sakura’s thumb brushed the side of his neck, and he felt another flush of cooling chakra in his head.

Her chakra felt awfully invasive, and they were sitting so intimately close together that Madara felt a sudden urge to push her away. It was too much, too close. He felt bared to her, completely vulnerable in every possible way. He could feel that prickling feeling in his head now. It felt like his whole body was lit up with an impossible to describe energy that was slowly building inside him. He would burst at any moment if he couldn’t move.

Parts of his brain, little chunks he didn’t know how to identify, jolted and exploded. It was as if she funneled chakra directly into specific sections to light them up, and maybe that was exactly what she was doing. He wanted to ask her, but when he opened his mouth to speak he found that he couldn’t move his tongue.

His hands came up instinctively to hers, cupping her elbows with near bruising force, ready to push her away.

Sakura made a cooing noise, which prompted Madara to glare at her, though she didn’t see it with her eyes closed. The hand that rested against his neck was achingly tender. Her fingers delicately massaged the base of his neck while her thumb rubbed soothing patterns against his skin.

“Almost done,” she murmured softly. He felt her breath against his cheek and loosened his grip on her elbows.

The tingling in his spine stopped and Sakura moved her hand from his neck back to his temple. Madara relaxed. He let go of her arms and dropped them down to his sides.

“Could you deactivate your Sharingan?” she asked. Madara obliged.

Her chakra surrounded his eyes again, creating that familiar feeling of them being dunked in cold water. He sat up a little higher, pulling away from her grasp. She made another cooing sound, but Madara wasn’t feeling it anymore. He turned his head away from her. His eyes were starting to go numb, and there was an awful pulling sensation behind them as if she were trying to pull them back into his skull.

The connection broke as he pulled away. The feeling dissipated, but Sakura seemed undeterred. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly, her eyes still closed as she shifted, too. She flung one leg over his waist to straddle him and grabbed his face with a little more firmness. “Just hold still.” Her chakra returned to his eyes, a little less cold this time.

Madara did still beneath her, not because of her command but because he could feel her feminine heat now pressed against his stomach. She looked so unguarded like this, which seemed so bizarre. Did she realize how vulnerable she was, too? He could see her pulse in that beautiful neck of hers. He reached up and cupped her neck like she had done to his. He pressed his thumb to her pulse point, half to warn her how fragile she actually was, half just because he wanted to touch her.

Sakura, ever oblivious to the warning in his touch, leaned into his hand, perhaps without even meaning to. She pulled her lower lip into her mouth and bit down, eyes still closed in concentration.

His vision began to swim, blurring the shape of her face until she was nothing but a pink and beige smudge.

“Sakura,” he said, unsure of how to voice his concerns to her. 

“I know,” she said, and quickly after, his vision returned to normal and she pulled her hands away from him.

She was completely still on top of him, her expression warm and tender as she gazed down at him. She was a different creature with her eyes open – no more beautiful, but somehow more ethereal, more nymph-like.

“Interesting,” she muttered to herself. “Madara, how often do you get those cloud-like headaches?”

Madara thought back to his regular life, which seemed so distant now though it couldn’t have been more than a couple weeks that he’d been there. That Madara had been constantly plagued by the dark cloud.

“Every time I’m in battle,” he said. “Or if I feel angry. It compounds and gets worse each time I feel rage. It’s near constant.”

For some reason, this made Sakura grin. “You haven’t been feeling much rage lately, have you?”

“No,” he agreed. “Not that much.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you kind of like it here,” she teased.

Madara smirked and brought his hands to her hips. She seemed then to realize their risqué position and her cheeks reddened. “There’s a lot to like about this place,” he agreed.

She leaned forward, bracing her little hands against his chest. “Like what?” she asked.

His hands travelled along her hips to her waist, pulling her down closer to him. She pushed her hips back so that she could press her chest closer to his. It caused delicious friction, dragging her heat across his stomach.

“These long legs,” he said, grabbing onto her thigh and giving it a firm squeeze. “And that sexy little mouth.” He reached up and thumbed her lower lip reverently. “And those gorgeous green eyes.”

Said gorgeous green eyes widened, though Madara detected her hesitancy and a sudden anxiety on her face. She demurred, turning her face away from him toward the sun and the sunflowers below.

“I don’t want you to feel rage or pain, Madara,” she said softly, “but if my presence affects you like this, it might hinder my research.”

“Well, that makes me pretty angry,” he said. “Maybe you should check my head again.”

“I’ve checked your head already,” she said, “and I have to admit that I’m a little confused by what I saw. This might be more complicated than I thought, and I was prepared for some pretty complicated stuff.”

Madara was intrigued. “What did you see?”

“Threads of chakra that connect your eyes to every single part of your brain,” she said. “There’s a lot to explore there, and I think there are a lot of possibilities. I’m pretty excited to delve a little deeper tomorrow and learn what I can.”

“Tomorrow?” he asked. “So we’re done for the day.”

“I don’t want to be poking around your head in anything less than perfect condition,” she said. “I need to eat and take a nap before I can do anything else productive today.”

Her stomach growled, punctuating her point.

“Don’t forget to cry,” he said.

“Right,” she said, giving him an adorable half smile. “I forgot I wanted to cry.”

Her smile faded, her fingers curling loosely in the fabric of his shirt. She seemed to remember then all the reasons she wanted to cry. Madara didn’t like that. She was sad that Sasuke had come and gone, and it was such a silly thing to cry about. She was here with him now, and she was fine. Sasuke was alive, thanks to her, so what exactly did she had to be so sad about?

“Even if I fix the curse,” she said, “I don’t think it will make Sasuke want me.”

Madara furrowed his brow. “So what if he doesn’t?” he asked. “Look at everything you’ve accomplished without him. Whatever clan you marry into will be lucky to have you. Sasuke would be a fool to look you over. It would be his loss, not yours.”

Sakura didn’t seem appeased by this, which made Madara want to shake some sense into her. Yes, it would be nice for her to be the Uchiha matriarch, the person who helped redeem the forsaken clan. She was likely the only person even capable of such a thing, and that was enough reason to go shake some sense into Sasuke, too, to force him into understand how crucial she was to his future.

But even if that never happened, a woman like Sakura couldn’t possibly end up alone and miserable. Someone so accomplished, so beautiful would be snatched up the moment she decided to let go of Sasuke.

“Why are you so determined to be with Sasuke, anyway?” he asked. “You can save him without marrying him.”

“I know,” she said. “And I will save him. I just… I don’t know. It’s what I wanted from the moment I first laid eyes on him. I worked harder to be a better shinobi just to impress him, and it never even seemed to faze him. He and Naruto were always so much stronger than me, and I just…”

She closed her eyes, and he thought for a second that she might start crying. It certainly wouldn’t do for her to cry over Sasuke while clutching at Madara’s chest. Madara wasn’t selfless enough to allow that.

“Just what?” he asked.

She opened her eyes. “I just want to be good enough.”

Madara laughed. Sakura glared at him, which only made him laugh harder. He swiftly flipped her onto her back, pressing her down against the chaise. He pushed his knee between her legs and lowered his face to hers, close but not quite touching her.

“Find me someone who you aren’t good enough for and I’ll pluck my own eyes out and give them to a Senju,” he said.

Sakura beneath him, her eyes suddenly heavy-lidded and dark. His knee was pressed close to a sensitive part of her anatomy now, and he could see the effect this position had on her. Her pulse quickened – he could hear it if he listened hard enough. Goosebumps erupted on her arms and raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“You’re too good for Sasuke,” he said and lowered his face to her neck. He didn’t kiss her there, but he pressed his face against her skin, blinking so that his lashes brushed against her. He felt her shiver and smiled into her skin.

“You’re just saying that because you want to fuck me.”

Madara paused, a little amused and a little disappointed that she had come to such a crass conclusion. He pressed a chaste, tender kiss to her neck and reached for her hand. He leaned back away from her so he could single out her ring finger and began to stroke it gently.

“If we weren’t transcending time and space to be near one another, I’d do a hell of a lot more than fuck you,” he said. “I’d put a ring on this pretty little finger,” he said, kissing her fingertip and then giving it a quick, teasing bite. “And then I’d put ten babies in your belly.”

“Easy for you to say,” she snapped, though he could see heat creeping down her neck, and he could feel the way she tightened her legs against his thigh. “We are transcending time and space. Besides, we still barely know each other.”

“I’m not a fool, Sakura,” he said. “I can recognize when I’ve stumbled onto something special.”

She sighed and it seemed so heavy that it made Madara’s heart feel like it was stretching down to his stomach. “Why couldn’t it have been you?” she asked in a whisper. “You should be here with me instead of him.”

He was horrified to see tears pooling in her eyes. She blinked, and some fell. Some clung to her pink lashes, creating a glittering halo around her eyes, which were already too pretty to be looking at.

“I am here with you,” he said. “See?” he asked, gesturing to the sunflowers below. “This is fate. If I had been born in Sasuke’s place, and he in mine, then I’d be the same as Sasuke is now – ruined by my curse. That’s why what you’re doing is so important. Be with Sasuke or don’t, it doesn’t matter. You just need to fix the curse and save us. That has to be why I was brought here.”

“An interesting hypothesis,” she said with a watery chuckle.

“Until the correct answer comes along, that’s what I’ll choose to believe,” he said, “especially if it keeps you by my side for longer.”

Sakura sighed again. “I thought you didn’t trust me.”

“Yeah, but then you touched my dick.”

“Oh, is that the secret?” she asked, laughing a little bit in spite of her tears. 

He pulled her hand against his chest, flattening it over his heart. “I have to trust you, Sakura,” he said. “Saving the Uchiha clan means saving Izuna, too. Nothing is more important to me than that, and I need your help to do it.”

Sakura frowned and he felt the fluttering of his pulse beneath her palm. “What if I can’t do it?” she asked softly, blinking a few straggling tears out of her eyes.

He cocked his head. “What happened to all that confidence?” he asked.

“I just don’t want to disappoint you if I can’t figure it out,” she said. “Tsunade-sama doesn’t believe it’s possible.”

“Well, she’s a fucking Senju.”

“And Sasuke doesn’t seem interested in fixing the curse at all, whether with me or anyone else,” she continued, ignoring him. “But you…”

“I will do whatever it takes to save Izuna,” he said again. “If the universe put me here with you, then I have to believe that you can help me do that.”

“But what if it didn’t?” she asked. “What if this is all some kind of cosmic accident?”

Madara didn’t want to think that. That meant there might not be a chance he could return to Izuna and save him. It meant he was stuck here in a place he didn’t belong. It meant that he had no purpose, no chance to redeem himself for all the atrocities his future self would commit.

“No,” he said. “It’s isn’t.”

Sakura’s stomach growled again. Madara felt compelled to lift her little red vest and kiss her smooth, flat stomach, but the air seemed too heavy for that.

“You won’t disappoint me, Sakura,” he assured her, because he knew she could do it.

“You’re only saying that because I touched your dick.”

Madara chuckled. “I’m only saying that because you are an incredibly accomplished kunoichi and medic,” he explained. “And that I somehow ended up right next to you… well, that sounds a lot like fate to me.”

“Or a miracle,” she suggested.

“A miracle,” he agreed, because that was the same thing, wasn’t it? He let go of her hand, but she kept it against his heart. She looked radiant in the sunlight, pressed against the chaise beneath him. She was the miracle. Or maybe a siren who’d lured him into her trap, but he found himself not even caring if she was.

He leaned down and kissed her. Her lips trembled against his, and he was slow, gentle, testing the waters with her. She wasn’t experienced with this sort of thing, and he knew that he wasn’t exactly her partner of choice. He also knew that this felt right, that kissing her like this was something he was supposed to do. He felt it everywhere in his bones.

She kissed him back timidly, a little unsure of herself.

But then her stomach growled and she froze. Madara pulled away from her, a little amused, a little fuzzy.

“Alright, Sunflower. Let’s get you something to eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, bless your face if you're reading this. I love you and thanks for reading. Second, I feel compelled to tell you all that I want this story to have the HAPPIEST of endings. That's not usually my style, but that's what this fic is telling me to do, so...
> 
> What I need from you guys is to know whether you prefer this MadaSaku happiness to be continued in Madara's time, or Sakura's. You know, like, where do y'all want them to live happily ever after?


	22. Chapter 22

Sakura somehow made a promising meal out of all those strangely colored packages they’d snagged at the market. Madara sat at the counter and watched her, amused by the easy way she bustled around the kitchen. The smell of fried batter and shrimp filled the air. Sakura hummed under her breath as she cooked, which Madara found so endearing that for a moment he forgot there were things to feel upset about.

They ate in a companionable silence. Sakura pulled out a little notebook she’d purchased at the clinic and began to scribble in it as she ate her food. Curious, Madara watched her sketch a Sharingan eye and the nerves connected to it. Around it was a bunch of medical jargon that Madara didn’t understand.

“I got you a notebook, too,” Sakura said without looking up from the page. “It’s in that sack on the counter.”

Madara reached for the sack and pulled it closer. There were various bottles and jars of things in there, as well as a few syringes that Madara hoped were not for him. Near the bottom of the sack was a notebook identical to Sakura’s. He pulled it out and flipped through the empty pages.

“What’s it for?” he asked.

“For you to chart the moon,” she answered. “And whatever else you want to do with it.”

Madara glanced toward the window, gazing out into the darkening sky. The sun still left an orange hue at the horizon, but the moon should be out now.

He approached the window, craning his neck to locate the moon in the inky, violet sky. Stars glittered above them, some scattered clouds filling in the gaps between. The sunflowers below almost seemed to glow, reflecting yellow light back up toward the cottage.

The moon was hung high in the sky – not full but a waxing gibbous. Madara reached for a pencil near Sakura’s arm and hastily sketched a quick waxing gibbous onto the first page. He scrawled the date at the top and then snapped the notebook shut.

Sakura snapped hers shut, too, and pushed back her empty plate. She stretched her arms high over her head and yawned. 

“Sakura, how does your Hokage feel about you being here with me?” he asked.

She blinked and lowered her stretched arms back to her sides. “Why are you asking?”

Madara sat down across from her at the counter and leaned his elbows against it. “Because even though I very much enjoy playing house with you, it seems like the kind of thing that could get you into a lot of trouble,” he said. “She won’t send more shinobi out looking for you, will she?”

She looked taken aback by this line of questioning, and Madara was suddenly curious about the relationship she had with the one remaining Senju. Hashirama’s granddaughter, he reminded himself.

“Tsunade-sama trusts me,” Sakura said with confidence. “I told her that I’ve come into a bit of a delicate situation and that I’ll need some time to resolve it. I don’t expect that she’ll send a rescue team, but there’s no way to know for sure. I imagine Naruto will want to come looking for me regardless of what she says.”

“You think they’ll find us here?” he asked.

Sakura laughed. “I doubt they’d expect someone to kidnap me and take me to a tourist trap,” she said. “Even if they get close, we can use the whole newlywed thing to our advantage.”

Yes, Madara agreed to himself. There were certainly a lot of advantages to be had there.

“You’re not worried about me, are you, Madara?” she asked, her tone a little teasing.

“Worried about what?”

“About stealing me away from my home and my duties and my life back in Konoha,” she pointed out.

He smiled and leaned a little closer. “I didn’t have to steal you,” he said. “Should I be worried that you were willing to temporarily give all those things up to be with me?”

“To study you,” she corrected.

“Let’s go back to the bedroom and we can study each other,” he suggested.

Sakura’s cheek burst into flame, but she scowled through it. “We should really try to come up with a proper game plan,” she said. “Now that I’ve got a good starting point we can spend all day tomorrow on the important stuff.”

“What’s the important stuff?” Madara asked.

“For tomorrow, that’s an observation period,” she said. “I’ll be closely monitoring your brain activity and your responses to certain stimuli.”

“What stimuli?” he asked, his tone more than a little suggestive.

She gave him a reproachful look. “You’ll see,” she said. “For now we should be getting some rest. We can figure everything else out in the morning.”

“Okay,” Madara agreed, stifling a yawn himself. He hadn’t exactly had it easy the past couple of days either. “Then let’s go to bed.”

He held out his hand to her. Sakura stared at it for a moment, her cheeks still flushed and bright. She looked back up at his face. “Together?” she asked timidly.

“Well, are you going to be a gentleman and offer to sleep on the floor?” he asked. “Because I’m sleeping in that bed, one way or another.”

Sakura crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s plenty big enough for the both of us,” she said snootily.

“I agree,” he said. “So let’s go to bed.”

She stared at his extended hand. When she made no move to take it, Madara circumvented the counter and hoisted her up onto his shoulder.

“Hey,” she shrieked, clinging to his back. “Put me down.”

He carried her back into the bedroom and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced twice on the mattress before she rolled onto the feet and crossed her arms. “You fucking pig,” she snapped, reaching for her pack and violently riffling through it. Madara watched with amusement as she pulled out some clothes and stomped out into the hall and then disappeared into the bathroom.

Madara reached for his pack, too, but he was accustomed to sleeping in his shinobi gear on missions or around people.

But at home (and with beautiful, feminine company), Madara preferred to sleep in the nude. Judging by Sakura’s tantrum, he suspected that she may not like that, and it was too early in their journey to be stepping on her toes. Instead, he opted to keep on his pants and simply removed his shirt instead and stuffed it into his pack.

He found a comfortable spot on the bed – the side closest to the door, and settled down into the silky sheets. He’d never been in a bed so comfortable before. He almost thought it was too comfortable to sleep in. After years of sleeping on cots or the ground, this might be hard to get used to.

When Sakura returned she was wearing an awful orange shirt that was much to big for her. It hung down to her thighs, a few scraggly threads hanging down at her knees. Her hair had been pulled into a messy knot on the top of her head and he could smell mint and coconut on her.

She didn’t even look at him as she slid into the bed beside him. She settled into the sheets, practically hugging the edge of the bed.

A little put off by her clear aversion to sharing a bed with him, Madara rolled over with a sigh. He reached for the lamp and tugged the chain, casting darkness around them. Moonlight poured in from the balcony doors, making everything silvery and a little eerie.

He listened to Sakura’s breathing. Madara had never been in a relationship before, and something about this arrangement with Sakura felt a lot like one. He realized that she only had eyes for Sasuke, but he had been able to coax some lascivious things from her in spite of that. Was that why she seemed so uncomfortable with him now? Did she feel like she had cheated on Sasuke in some kind of way?

It would be a damn shame not to be able to touch her and kiss her while they stayed here. Hell, it would practically be torture in a place like this. But if it made her feel so unhappy, he would just have to find a way to refrain. 

Sakura stirred on her side of the bed. Madara closed his eyes, trying to ignore her. He pretended she wasn’t there at all, and that he was back in his own time, in his own tent.

It wasn’t comforting, but it was boring. After a while Madara felt himself drifting off. He could hear Sakura’s beating heart – she wasn’t asleep yet either. He rolled over to face her and was surprised to find that she was facing him, her eyes open. They were unfocused, but directed toward him.

“Sakura,” he murmured softly.

“Madara,” she replied, eyes coming into focus. They came up to his face, wide and fearless, but a little hesitant.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked her.

“This feels weird,” she whispered, blinking at him with her long, pink lashes.

“Come a little closer,” he said. “It might not feel as weird.”

She didn’t glare at him or shy away, either. She looked rather sad, and Madara didn’t like the feeling of sharing a bed with a sad girl.

“I’m kind of attracted to you,” she said. Madara felt warmth spread quickly through his chest. Sakura’s eyes flicked down as if she could see it, lingering there until a blush spread on her cheeks.

“You were attracted to me before you met me,” he said, remembering what she had said when they were camped in the Valley of the End.

“Yeah, your family is just beautiful.”

He tried not to think of Sasuke and whether or not she was just trading one Uchiha for the other. It pained him to think that she might be picturing Sasuke when she kissed him.

“But I wasn’t talking about how you look,” she said.

Madara shifted closer to her, intrigued. “Oh, yeah?” he asked. “So it’s my dominant, panther personality, then?”

“Do I even stand a chance against someone so flirty and cute?” she asked.

“Do I?” he asked right back.

She sighed, but her gaze on him was warm and charming and adorably soft. “I’m worried that whatever this—” The word hung in the air between them. “—is will get in the way of my research.”

“Is it your research that you’re worried about?” he asked. “Or is it Sasuke?”

She was silent for a minute. Madara’s heart felt like it was stretching, stretching until it would snap.

“Both,” she finally answered when the air between them had grown heavy and unbearable. “I know this isn’t fair at all, but I’m scared that when you’re gone and it’s just Sasuke left… even if I fix the curse, even if he comes around and decides to be with me… he won’t be you.”

She looked ready to cry. It made Madara want to offer to sleep on the couch. He couldn’t handle her crying right now. “Sasuke is always going to have that pain,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can’t take it away, no matter how badly I want to. Even if I fix the curse, I can’t heal him. But you? I could save you from so much pain. You’re just like Sasuke; you don’t deserve this. By helping you, I’m helping him, too. But you’re the one who’s more important to me. I don’t just want to fix the curse, I want to get you back to the past, where you belong. I need you to fix history, and I want you to have the ending you deserve.”

Her fingers came up to his face. She brushed her thumb across his cheek. Madara caught her wrist and held onto it, feeling a little like he’d been struck by lightning.

“But you’re afraid you’ll get attached to me,” he accused.

“It just seems like it’ll hurt an awful lot when you go back,” she said with defeat.

Sakura’s fingers curled away from his face, so Madara moved her hand to his chest, over his heart. “I’m afraid of that, too,” he said. 

Her eyes were serious. She pulled her hand back to her own chest. “I’m afraid that pushing you away might also negatively impact the research,” she said. 

“Hmm, and I bet you find me pretty irresistible, huh?”

Her lashes fluttered. Her gaze drifted down to his chest again. She stared at her leisure, slow and greedy. Madara felt goosebumps erupt on his skin as if her gaze had lasered him. She reached out and left a feather light touch on his arm, tracing shoulder to bicep. More goosebumps trailed in the wake of her dainty fingers.

“A little bit,” she conceded.

Madara grinned, a little sleepy and a little giddy in spite of his sympathy for Sakura’s predicament. This research was crucial, and this was her only real shot at it. It made sense that she would want to keep things professional, but now it was a little too late for that.

“Please stop looking at me like that,” she said breathily.

His grin widened. “Okay,” he agreed, and shut his eyes. He pictured her face, musing what her expression must be like as she looked at him. He could never tire of those beautiful eyes and the way they lit up him inside.

Fingertips brushed against his jaw. Madara struggled to keep his eyes closed. He felt his smile melting into something deeper and warmer. Her finger dragged slowly along his lip. He caught her wrist and pressed his thumb to her palm. She squealed when he pulled her finger into his mouth and gave it a gentle bite.

Unable to resist any longer, Madara opened his eyes to look at her. She looked adorably flustered, but didn’t pull her hand away, even when Madara gave her finger a gentle suck. He watched blood pool in her cheeks and flush down her neck, dipping down below that hideous orange collar. He longed to slide his hand along her thigh to her breasts, to push the material aside and reveal the perfection underneath it.

She pulled her hand away, her gaze lifting up to the canopy over the bed. “Do you think fate brought us here together for more than one reason?” she asked, avoiding his eyes.

“What do your instincts tell you?”

It took a moment more of inspecting the bed’s canopy before her eyes found his again. They glimmered with determination and confidence. “I want to kiss you so badly,” she said. “My body is betraying me. I know it’s a bad idea.”

Madara’s eyes dipped back to her traitorous body, eying the way her shirt bunched at her hips, exposing her thigh until her leg dipped beneath the silky sheets. He should roll back over and try to fall asleep before he did something stupid, like tug that damn shirt up over her head.

“Is it, though?” he asked. He just needed to be sure.

“Of course it is,” she said. “We’re transcending time and space, remember?”

“Okay, then,” Madara said. “If you think it’s best for us to be strictly professional, then I’ll be on my best behavior from now on.”

Sakura blinked. “You will?”

He nodded, grinning a little bit. “Absolutely,” he said. “It’s you I’m worried about since you find me so irresistible.”

She glared at him. “I can resist if you can,” she said dryly.

“It’s settled, then,” Madara said. “We’ll keep our hands to ourselves.”

Sakura said nothing. She wouldn’t be able to literally keep her hands to herself. Madara imagined that there would be many more times she’d need to touch his temples or the back of his neck. She’d even straddled his waist earlier while completely absorbed in her work.

He’d secretly look forward to more of those touches. He’d look forward to continuing to flirt with her, even in these dangerous new conditions. Would he really be able to keep his hands to himself? The challenge of it excited him.

“You’re taking his better than I thought,” she finally said.

“I’m at your mercy,” he said with a sigh. “I should play by your rules.”

“You’re not at my mercy,” she argued. 

“Of course I am, Sunflower,” he said. She wriggled a little deeper under the covers, pulling the sheets up to cover her exposed thigh. “You’re probing my brain and my most powerful asset. I chose to be at your mercy because I think you have good intentions and our goals align. If you think it’s best to keep the flirtations to a minimum, then I’ll respect your wishes.”

“Oh,” she said and he delighted in the fact that she sounded disappointed. “Well, good. I’m glad we agree.”

“Good,” he echoed softly, his eyes wandering from her face to her neck, and then lower to her breasts beneath that stupid shirt. He could see her pert nipples beneath, distended from the slight chill in the air. Madara imagined all the ways he could warm her up.

Sakura cleared her throat and pulled the sheets up even higher, clutching them against her chest. “You need to stop looking at me like that,” she said, though she didn’t sound like she meant it.

Still, Madara presumed that she did, in fact, mean it, so he gave her a teasing grin. “Okay,” he said. “Sorry.” Sakura deflated a little. Madara rolled over, turning his back to her as he pulled his side of the sheets up, too. “Goodnight, Sakura,” he said.

He heard her rustling movement on the other side of the bed. He felt that she’d rolled over, too, and sensed her apparent discomfort.

“Goodnight,” she murmured back.

///

Morning light spilled through the balcony doors like fire, accosting Madara’s eyes until they burned. He rubbed at them with his loosely curled fists. When he blinked his eyes open, wincing against the brightness, he found Sakura’s sleeping face just a few inches away from his.

She was impossibly charming while so completely unguarded. It warmed him to see that her sleep was peaceful, that there was a faint smile on her face. He resisted the urge to touch her face, to push the tendrils of pink that had fallen into it back behind her ear. It probably wasn’t professional.

But neither was the way her two feet were wedged between his ass and the mattress. Madara’s face broke into a grin as he realized her half curled position. She had drifted a little closer to him during the night. In spite of having half of the bed to herself, she’d crept quite a ways over the invisible line diving the mattress into even halves. She must have come closer, conscious or not, to warm her feet against him.

“Sakura,” he said softly.

She stirred. Her lashes fluttered open. They widened when they saw his face so close to hers.

“Charming loophole,” he said to her. “Keep our hands to ourselves, but we never said anything about feet.”

Realizing the scandalous position of her feet, Sakura yanked her feet out from under him and retreated back to her side of the mattress with frenzy. “Sorry,” she blurted, her cheeks brighter than the sunlight pouring through the glass doors.

Madara tossed the sheets away from his body and lurched up to his feet. “It’s not your fault,” he said over his shoulder, hands delving for his pack. “My raw animal magnetism,” he explained, rifling through his pack for a clean shirt to wear.

He heard her scoff, but when he glanced back up at her, she had curled herself up in a sitting position on the bed, her eyes lingering on his naked chest. Madara ignored her as he tugged his cleanest shirt over his head.

“What’s on the itinerary today, Sakura-sama?” he asked.

“I thought we could take a walk through the sunflower fields this morning,” she said, but something in her voice sounded unconvinced.

“A walk?” he asked dubiously. “Is that supposed to be the stimulus you want to see my reaction to?”

“Yes,” she replied coldly. She slithered out of the bed and made her way toward the bathroom. “And I don’t want to have to remind you to be on your best behavior.”

Madara grinned at her as she passed. “As long as you can keep your hands and feet to yourself,” he said.

She gave him annoyed look before she slammed the bathroom shut. She spent in an inordinately long time in there, and while she primped herself, Madara wandered into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. Having little experience with cooking the kinds of food Sakura had purchased, he made do with some sliced fruits while he waited for her.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, Madara felt his heart splutter in his chest. She wore a dress not unlike the ones he’d seen the other girls about town wearing – a casual little sundress that hugged her figure and flared at her hips. It left a lot of her skin exposed, especially the thin straps on her shoulders, which covered very little of her creamy chest.

“You can’t wear that,” she said, as if she were stealing the words right out of his mouth. Was he supposed to follow her around all day while she wore that? How was he supposed to keep his hands off her? “We’ve got a part to play, remember? Newlyweds. Put on some of the civilian clothes we bought yesterday.”

With a mouthful of peach, Madara shook his head. “No way, Sunflower.”

She glared at him, hand perched on her hip. “You may call me Haruno-sensei,” she said with vigor. “You can keep the shirt, but go change into the ripped jeans.”

Madara put down his peach and sucked the juice from his fingers. He watched Sakura’s face grow red, whether from embarrassment or rage he didn’t know. “Okay, Sunflower,” he said, and watched her carefully as he made his way back toward the bedroom. He was uncertain of what she had planned for him today, and he couldn’t help but feel like she was already starting with the stimuli.

“If it means so much to you, I’ll put on the jeans.”

///

Madara put on more than just the jeans. When he rifled through the shopping bags, he found a lot more than he’d expected. Madara had unwittingly agreed to every item she’d purchased, only half paying attention to the clothes she presented him when the clothes she had been wearing were far more interesting.

Inside the bags he found the aforementioned ripped jeans, along with a thin white shirt with a loose collar like he’d seen some of the tourists about town wearing. It was a little snug, which suited his purposes just fine.

When he returned to Sakura, he found her finishing his peach. Her stare was frigid as he entered the kitchen. He watched her take another bite, her gaze cold, but warming quickly as he approached. He supposed it was counterproductive to try to seduce her with his rakish charm. He knew her to be particularly susceptible to his broad chest and shoulders, which she frequently let her eyes linger on when she thought he wouldn’t notice.

Said chest and shoulders were on display for her now. He made sure to brush quite close to her as he passed her, sliding between her and the kitchen counter to make his way back into the living room.

“Ready to go?” he asked with a lecherous grin.

She tossed the peach pit into the sink and sucked the juice from her thumb with equal parts dryness and amusement. “You’re not going to pass for a civilian in that,” she said. “I should have gotten you a size bigger.”

Madara crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you talking about? It suits me perfectly.”

Sakura eyed him, her cheeks flushed but with a pleasant, unabashed sort of heat. “As long as you’re comfortable in it, Uchiha-sama.”

“Very much so, Haruno-sensei,” he said in reply.

She smiled, and Madara lamented how hard it was going to be to remain professional with her. Touching was off limits, but did that mean he couldn’t flirt with her either? That was just unthinkable.

“Good,” she said, and whatever else she had been about to say died on her tongue when Madara stretched his arms high up over his head. He felt his back pop with the motion, and the intensity of the stretch made him groan with relief. He relished in the feeling of Sakura’s eyes on him, glued to the strip of skin that had been exposed beneath the hem of his shirt.

“Come on,” he said, lowering his arms back to his sides and nodding toward the door. “I’m ready to be stimulated now.”

///

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your input about this story's ending! Majority of you want them to go back to Madara's time, and I think that's a great idea. But to those of you who wanted them to stay in the future (present?), I don't think you'll be disappointed. That's kind of the direction I personally was leaning, so I think you guys will be happy with the compromise I came up with.
> 
> I love all of your beautiful faces! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	23. Chapter 23

The sunflower fields were unbearably warm. Madara felt his shirt sticking to his skin, growing transparent under his sweat. He tugged at his collar as they trudged through the flowers, shading his eyes from the sun with his other hand. These clothes were hot and uncomfortable, and it didn’t bode well for the rest of the day.

Sakura, too, seemed affected by the heat. She walked ahead of him, and he couldn’t help but watch the way sweat beaded up on the back of her neck, clinging to the wisps of hair too short for her ponytail. It swished as she walked, reminding him of before, when his brain had… exploded.

“Uchiha-sama?” Sakura called over her shoulder. “Have you been sexually active in the last year?”

A different kind of explosion went off in Madara’s head, and his throat suddenly felt very dry. “Is this related to your research?” he asked skeptically.

She paused to glance at him, and he did not care for the devious glint in her eye. “Of course it is,” she said patiently. “A simple yes or no is all I need.”

He wasn’t sure he believed that it was so innocent a question. “Yes,” he answered truthfully, wishing he’d waited until he could have seen her face when he said it. He watched her ponytail continue swishing.

“That dark cloud in your head,” she asked, “do you associate it with any of your romantic or sexual partners?”

Madara thought back to the girls he’d encountered back home. They never had anything to do with his pain. They were small comforts, important to him in some ways, even if he couldn’t remember their names. The dark cloud was reserved for battle, for the Senju, for this maddening situation with time and the moon.

“No,” he answered. “Just you.”

Sakura halted abruptly. Madara stopped behind her, maybe a little too close. The sunflowers were thick and tall around them, seeming to press them closer to each other in a bath of green and yellow light.

She turned around and glared fiercely at him.

“What?” he asked, bewildered.

“We are not romantic or sexual partners,” she snapped.

“Well,” Madara said, stretching out the syllable skeptically. “Remember the whole bathtub incident?” Her cheeks exploded with pink. “I still owe you,” he said. “Cash in that favor anytime you want, Sunflower.”

Her hands were suddenly clenched at her sides. Madara felt the mass of chakra pulling from her core and began to suspect he’d offended her. He slipped into a defensive stance, but he noticed that the warmth of his gaze on her made Sakura feel patronized. 

“Stop flirting with me,” she seethed.

It would have been easy to believe the low, dangerous tone that she used had Madara not already grown accustomed to the vivacious little kunoichi. He could have kissed her right then, he adored her so much. She was so bright against the sunflower stalks, and the dappled light from the sunflower petals made her glow and glitter with warm sun.

Chakra loomed in their cozy little closet of flowers. He loved that angry scowl on her face.

“Or what?”

Sakura struck the ground with her fist, sending a sharp, loud shockwave rumbling through the earth. Madara leapt back with surprise, not that she’d shown the burst of aggression, but that the single punch she had thrown had leveled at least a mile’s radius worth of sunflowers. He landed on his feet inside the crater, astonished not only that that was the kind of strength she was holding back from him, but that she had it in her to destroy all the sunflowers like that.

He gaped at her, not without amusement at her destructive display. Should he keep flirting with her just to see more like it?

She stood motionless in the center of the crater for a moment. Her eyes darted to his, her scowl gone. There was something hard and arrogant in her expression that made Madara’s palms sweat.

And then, like a bolt of lightning, she was off. She raced toward the edge of the crater, ponytail swinging furiously. Madara blinked, confused, though his body was suddenly lit with the challenge that pretty smirk on her face raised in him. He darted after her, closing in on her as she delved back into the sunflowers.

With his Sharingan, it was easy enough to follow her through the thick, high stalks of the sunflowers. He could hear her snapping some as she flung her way past them. Her path had no rhyme or reason other than to potentially lose him, which was impossible with her lack of his speed and his kekkei genkai. She zigged and zagged through the flowers until Madara had nearly grown bored with the chase.

But with a sudden burst of speed, she raced harder through the flowers, leaving behind crushed stems and stomped petals in her wake. Madara burst forward after her, ready to end this little game.

Then her body came to a sudden and screeching halt in front of him. Madara cocked his fist, ready to use his momentum to deal a blow when Sakura ducked down, curling her body around her feet. Behind where she stood, Madara saw the reason she’d stopped – a cliff, abrupt, hidden by a levy of sunflowers. In any other situation, Madara might have stopped to marvel that it was beautiful and ethereal to be so high up as to feel like he were practically in the sky.

It only occurred to him to be afraid of such a thing when Sakura stood up just as his body had come close enough that she could latch her fingers around his wrists, heave him over her shoulder, and then with another frightening burst of that chakra, launch him over the edge of the cliff.

In mid air, he struggled to right the orientation of his body. His pinwheel eyes scanned around him – the cliff, the sunflowers, the little twerp with pink hair that giggled amidst them.

Below was a still river, the water glittering and bright in the sunlight. Both sides of the river were flanked by high cliffs, the shores sandy and steep. He glared at Sakura as he began to plummet toward the water, annoyed that she’d intentionally put him in this predicament for her own amusement.

He dove headfirst into the water, a little less gracefully than if he’d jumped of his own free will. The water was chilly, but in a refreshing sort of way after chasing Sakura under the hot sun. When his head emerged from the water, he shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and glanced back up to the cliff.

Sakura’s silhouetted head poked from the cliff’s edge and then disappeared. A second later, her body flung into the air. She arced gracefully against the cloudless sky, the curved line of her body piercing the surface of the water like a needle. She was under the water for an achingly silent minute before she propelled herself up, flinging her wet hair so that it sprayed over Madara’s face.

“You little lunatic,” he spat at her.

She hoisted herself up to stand on the surface tension of the water. His eyes followed her. Her little white sundress clung every part of her, dripping rivulets of water down her legs. Madara stared at her ankles, willing himself not to look up at her while she stood so close to him lest he see beneath that dress of hers and incur her wrath again.

Once again, she broke into a run. Her burst of laughter sent another thrill of challenge through Madara’s chest. He would hunt her down, he thought, and show her just how much faster and stronger he was. He leapt up to the surface of the water and chased after her, ignoring the fire that burned in his chest. He was suddenly in the mood for a proper spar – a bloody, physical, brutal spar.

His blood roared through his ears. He could hear Sakura laughing ahead of him, and it sent a sharp thrill through him. Having had enough of it (and yet somehow not enough), Madara lunged forward and caught her wrist. He jerked her back toward him. She grunted, trying to yank her arm out of his grasp. She didn’t use chakra, but her whole body flailed in a rather silly attempt to free herself from his restraint.

Madara let her writhe against him. She chuckled breathily, pushing against his chest with quivering fingers.

“You weren’t supposed to catch me yet,” she said, though she didn’t sound mad at all, which seemed surprising given how this whole chase had started.

“You’re so slow,” he said dryly, but they were both grinning at each other with amusement, dripping water back into the river on which they stood.

“I didn’t expect you to give chase so easily,” she teased. “You’re like a cat.”

A panther, he wanted to say, but he didn’t.

“Will you chase anything that runs?” she demanded.

Madara’s gaze narrowed on her. Was this all a part of her research? He hated not knowing. How should he know how to respond to things if he didn’t even realize she was noting his response? Should he not have chased her?

“Any dark cloud in there?” she asked, reaching up for his face. Instinctively, he caught her wrists in his hands to push them away. Realizing he ought not do that, he settled for merely holding onto her as she flushed cooling chakra into his head.

“Nope,” she said, immediately pulling back away from him, much to Madara’s displeasure. He released her arms, trailing his fingers down the length of her hands to prolong the contact. “Guess I didn’t piss you off enough.”

“Are you trying to piss me off?” he demanded, perhaps a little too harshly.

She shook her head. “Not exactly… 

“Well, you kind of are,” he snapped.

She grinned widely at him, her little pearl teeth glinting in the sunlight. She was still tantalizingly close to him, and he couldn’t help but admire nearly everything about her for a second. It was always so tempting to lean down and kiss her like she was his to kiss whenever he wanted.

He felt that magnetic pull that drew his face closer to hers. Just being so near to her was a dizzying treat, especially now that her little white sundress was soaked through and sheer.

He kept his gaze on her eyes instead of letting them wander downward. Her eyes were locked on his, too, and he wondered if she was also repressing the urge to glance down at his drenched body.

Before he could do anything to try to goad her into looking, she whirled herself around and took off again, footsteps kicking up glittering droplets of water on the surface in her wake.

Madara sighed with a little irritation and a little amusement. He heard another maniacal giggle and took off after her.

He chased her down the length of the river, zooming past the sandy cliffs. Madara ran fast enough to keep up with her, but not to catch her just yet. She clearly had someplace to lead him, and he was enjoying the sights of the country around him. He could see why this place attracted so many people.

The cliffs began to slope downward, leaving sandy, rocky beaches lining the sides of the river. Ahead of him he could hear the sounds of rushing water – a roaring amount of it. Sakura’s tiny figure glided across the water in front of him, and beyond her he could see the brightness of the sky against the horizon, and the line of churning froth that indicated they were approaching a waterfall.

When Sakura neared the edge of the river, she glanced back at Madara over her shoulder before leaping over the waterfall, poised in a perfect dive. Madara rushed to catch up with her and took a literal leap of faith after her.

Once he’d cleared the frothy water at the top of the waterfall, the height of the drop made his stomach lurch. His body hung hundreds of feet in the air, dangling in the clouds that overlooked the rocky oasis below.

Madara spotted Sakura’s pink head in the water, and angled his body into a dive, aiming for the water near her, hoping to avoid the rocks.

By the time he had emerged from the water, Sakura was already moving toward the sandy shore. He followed her, climbing up onto the beach to gaze in wonder at their new location.

High cliffs surrounded them forming a cozy nook. The sun was high overhead, but Madara imagined that this place would get dark quickly because of how high the cliffs were and the way the waterfall was tucking them against the beach. It was a little greener over here. Shrubs and trees lined the edge of the beach farthest from the water too thickly to be able to walk through. The river continued farther than the eye could see.

“This is where you wanted to take me?” he asked, a little confused, though he couldn’t deny that there was something intrinsically alluring about this place. 

“Not quite,” she answered, disappearing behind the waterfall. She beckoned for him to follow, so he obediently dipped behind the cascading water. It was even darker here, and loud and wet. He watched Sakura’s lithe silhouette reach for a boulder perched beneath the gushing water. She easily rolled the rock to the side, though it must have outweighed her by a thousand pounds. Behind it was a dark, damp cave. Madara eyed it warily, his Sharingan spinning. He couldn’t see anything of note inside, even with his Sharingan. It was a just a wet, empty cave.

“Is this a trap?” he asked, unsure because he didn’t believe Sakura would lead him into a trap, which made her the perfect person to actually lead him into one.

She laughed. “Obviously, it is,” she said. “My grand plan all along was to trap the great Madara Uchiha in a dark cave guarded by nothing but a big rock.”

He gave her a dry look but followed her into the cave anyway. It was unremarkable inside other than a contained pool of still water against the cave’s wall, leaking from somewhere beneath the cave, Madara presumed.

Sakura rolled the boulder back across the cave’s entrance, casting them both in total darkness.

As unbothered as Madara was by being trapped in a small cave with the beautiful kunoichi, he couldn’t help but be suspicious of her now.

“So, the first experiment we’re going to do involves sensory deprivation,” Sakura explained. He could still see her in spite of the darkness, thanks to his kekkei genkai, but he could tell that she no longer was able to see him. Her eyes were unfocused as they gazed in his general direction.

“Come here,” she said, extending her hand toward him. Warily, Madara placed his hand in hers and allowed Sakura to rather clumsily lead him to the edge of the pool of water. “I want you to lie down in the water,” she said. “It’s just deep enough for you to be able to float comfortably.”

“You’ve done this before?” he asked her, wondering how she knew of this cave, and if coming to this town had been her plan from the start.

“Not like this,” she explained. “I’ve been here before on a mission. That’s how I knew it was here.”

Madara continued to eye her skeptically, though she couldn’t see it.

“You can take off your clothes, if you’d be more comfortable that way,” she said, and he grinned seeing the heat creep into her cheeks. “I can’t see you.”

Given the twofold reasons for taking of his clothes (letting them dry, and his general perversion), Madara found himself naked in a matter of seconds. He pressed his wet clothes into Sakura’s hands for her to dry and climbed into the pool.

“So I just have to sit here?” he asked, confused about how this whole experiment would work. Was it going to be painful?

Sakura laid his clothes across the ground, feeling across it with blind hands. “I’ll need you to deactivate your Sharingan,” she said. “You might want to submerge your ears under the water, but that’s up to you.”

A little uncomfortably, Madara deactivated his Sharingan and let the darkness of the cave wash over him. He closed his eyes, though it made little difference. The water was cold, but his body adjusted to it quickly. He dipped his ears below the water and relaxed his body.

Sakura was silent, though he could still feel her in the cave with him. He probed at her with his chakra, wondering how she could be observing him like this.

Then her fingers were on his temples and cold chakra washed through his head. He tensed for a moment before he felt himself relax again. Her chakra disappeared as quickly as it had come and her fingertips moved away from his temples.

“Don’t reach out with your chakra,” she said, her voice distorted by the water. “I’ll be right here by your side the whole time. Just try to let all of your senses blank.”

Madara did not like the sound of that, or the feeling. He could already feel panic blooming up in his chest. This was too dangerous. He couldn’t be able to tell if someone was coming, if they were in danger.

Sakura’s fingers found their way to his and squeezed. He squeezed back, feeling uncomfortable and nervous about this.

But after a few minutes of perfect, deafening silence, Madara began to relax. There was no sound, pitch darkness, and the cold water had numbed his body to the point where he could not feel it.

The sensation was unnerving. Madara repressed the urge to reach out with his chakra, just to be able to feel something. His thoughts raced in his head, but he focused instead on the feeling of Sakura’s fingers curled around his.

Eventually he relaxed, feeling weightless and empty, disconnected from the earth entirely. He was in space. He drifted, passing stars and nebulas with their swirling pink and purples and greens and blues. The bursting colors crackled beneath his twitching eyelids.

Whether it was his imagination or a vivid vision, Madara couldn’t be sure. He opened his eyes to the pitch darkness of their little cavern. The glimmering stars and glowing nebulas remained there, eyes open or not, so Madara closed his eyes again. It was hard to resist the urge to activate his Sharingan.

Instead, he gave himself over entirely to the ethereal experience. He admired the stars that rolled by, the gas giants, the ringed planets. It was no galaxy he recognized, though Madara was far from a skilled astronomer. It wasn’t until he drifted upon a silvery, glowing celestial body that he recognized anything from the vision.

The moon. It loomed in front of him, cast in shadow by the brightness of a large star behind it. Caught in its gravity, Madara floated toward its surface with increasing speed. He braced himself for impact, but when he broke through the moon’s atmosphere, he floated rather elegantly down to the surface and landed deftly on his feet.

He glanced around the barren landscape, grey dust and rock as far as they eye could see.

Except to his right, where a deep crater carved deeply into the powdery stone terrain. Madara peered down inside, his eye caught by a flash of movement.

He spotted Sakura in the crater’s center, glowing in an otherworldly kind of way. Her back was turned to him and he could see that her pink hair was much longer now, hanging down nearly to her hips.

Madara leapt down into the crater, skittering and tumbling down to its center toward her. She turned to face him and his heart leapt up into his throat when he saw her swollen belly and her hand splayed across it protectively. His stomach lurched when she turned further and revealed a toddler on her arm. Black eyes, a mop of dark hair. It clung to Sakura’s chest, nuzzling its head against her shoulder.

He glanced up at her face, alarmed, confused. She smiled warmly at him; she looked so pretty he swore the sun rose over the moon’s horizon just because she heralded it with that stunning, affectionate smile. It cast warm light over them – Sakura, the child in her arm and the one in her belly.

“Madara,” she said, his name a comfort and a relief to hear in her loving, tender voice. She passed the toddler into his arms – a boy, he realized, his heart skipping a beat.

“Dada,” said the boy as Madara lifted him onto his hip. Was this a vision of his future? Madara rubbed his thumb across the boy’s cheek, remembering how all his brothers had had the same ruddy cheeks as infants.

A little horrified, a little warmed, Madara glanced back at Sakura. Her face pulled into a worried frown. She cradled her swollen belly as she took a step closer, extending her hand to the boy.

And then, the boy in his arms became weightless. Madara curled his arm tighter, to no avail. His body became ash and floated away, whisked into the air by an unnatural and chilly breeze.

Sakura screamed and Madara lunged forward to grab onto her, to comfort her, to protect her from the same fate.

She crumpled onto her knees, sobbing into her hands. Madara was disturbed by the pool of blood between her legs that collected in the dusty moon-soil. His eyes hovered on Sakura’s round belly, not daring to look down at the growing amount of blood puddled around her.

Then she suddenly leapt to her feet, blood drenching her lower half, running in rivulets down her legs.

Madara felt a garbled cry rip from his throat. His heart ached at the sight of her like that, of the innate knowledge that it had been his baby in her belly. 

She turned and fled, leaving deep, bloody footsteps in the crater behind her. Madara gave chase immediately, his heart pounding wickedly in his chest. Sakura raced ahead of him with her usual speed, but Madara felt sluggish and slow in his body. It moved in the moon’s lower gravity, widening the distance between him and Sakura as she climbed out of the crater.

He followed her footsteps after she had disappeared over the crater’s edge. He climbed up the sloping rock until he’d reached the surface again. Blinded by the sun’s unyielding light, he shielded his eyes with his hand until they could adjust.

When they did and he blinked his eyes open again, he found himself in a forest of cherry blossom trees. Pink petals fell like confetti through the air, lit by a warm, glowing sunrise on the horizon.

Just a few feet away, leaned against the trunk of a tree, Sakura had her arms crossed. This was his Sakura, with her short hair and the white sundress. She had a playful smirk on her lips and a delightfully fiery quirk in her hip.

Madara approached her, and her smirk became a full-blown grin. She launched herself off the tree and threw herself into his arms. Confused, but delighted all the same, Madara lifted her into his arms. She kissed him fiercely and hungrily.

“I love you,” she said to him.

His heart, even accustomed to all the stuttering and racing she often subjected it to, beat wildly at the sound of those three words.

“I—”

Her body’s weight disappeared from his arms. He gaped in horror as it turned to grey ash and floated away with the cherry blossom petals into the sun.

Then the trees faded away. The sun brightened until Madara could no longer see. He squeezed his eyes shut, wincing as the light bloomed and exploded. When he felt it dim, Madara opened his eyes again to find himself back at his home camp. He recognized his tent, and the one next to it, Izuna’s. It glowed from within with the light of a flickering lantern.

Curious, Madara peered a little closer.

The tent’s flap opened and Izuna emerged, grinning from ear to ear. He laughed heartily and he stepped out into the open air and extended a hand to the person in the tent behind him.

A delicate, familiar hand slipped into his, and Sakura’s pink head emerged from the tent. She laughed as Izuna tucked her protectively under his arm and steered her toward the camp’s exit.

Feeling a burst of irrational jealousy, Madara moved to intervene. Izuna scowled as he approached, which made Madara feel a brief moment of infuriating confusion. He stared at his brother’s face, silently demanded to know what he was doing with Sakura in his tent.

But while he stared, Izuna’s face morphed into Sasuke’s. It was such a subtle difference, but it immediately made Madara’s blood run cold. Sasuke flung his arm around Sakura’s neck and pulled her flush against his side.

“Sakura’s is mine,” Sasuke said, his voice steel. “You can’t have her.”

He reached up, kunai in hand, and pulled the blade across her neck. Blood spurted from her throat in high arcs.

Darkness raced through his head, not like a rising cloud but like a gushing river. He wanted to reach for her, but also to clutch at his burning temples. He could do neither, frozen in place.

“No!” Madara screamed, but it came out as only a whisper.

He sat up, panicked, heart in overdrive. He knew it had only been a vision, but it had felt so real. It was almost as if he could feel the warm spray of her blood. Sasuke’s face, his spinning eyes haunted him. It was just a vision, Madara reminded himself, but he knew deep down that Sasuke was affected deeply enough by the curse to let it get the best of him.

There was no doubt in Madara’s mind that this was a warning.

He blinked. The vision was gone but the cave was still pitch black. His naked chest, now exposed to the chilly air, and wet, prickled with goosebumps. He blindly reached from Sakura’s hand, horrified to find that her fingers were not still contained in his.

“I’m here,” Sakura said, and the sound of her voice sent a wave of intensely warm relief over him. “It’s okay. Are you alright?”

Her fingers were suddenly on his temples, her chakra pouring into his brain. He didn’t resist her. Instead, he reached up to touch her belly, remembering how she had looked with long hair, pregnant, glowing.

He was surprised to find her stomach bare, though it was flat and taut. “You’re naked,” he accused, his Sharingan activating without him really meaning to, though he didn’t try too hard to resist the impulse.

“Hey,” she snapped, pulling her hands away from his temples to cover his eyes. “You’re naked, too,” she pointed out. “I put both of our clothes outside to dry.”

While she covered his eyes, he reached out and grabbed onto her waist, sliding his palms along the smooth skin there.

“I had a vision,” he told her.

“A hallucination,” she corrected. “It wasn’t real.”

“It seemed kind of prophetic to me,” he argued, but he couldn’t tell her why. His face burned just at the thought of it, and he was glad she couldn’t see him in the darkness.

“Turn off your Sharingan, you pervert,” she demanded.

He didn’t. He reached for her hands, but didn’t pull them away from his eyes. Instead, he held onto her wrists, rubbing them gently with his thumbs. They were so thin, but not without lean, firm muscle. He clutched onto them almost desperately, remembering the way she had cradled her belly with them.

“Go get our clothes,” he commanded, because this seemed like a precarious situation with them both naked.

“Turn off your Sharingan first.”

He still didn’t, but Sakura kept her hands over his eyes. “Don’t you want to know what happened in my vision?”

“You don’t need to tell me the details,” she said. “But was there anything that made the darkness come in your head?”

“Yes,” he answered vaguely, lowering his hands to her hips and lifting her up over top of him. She shrieked and let go of his head to grab onto his chest for balance. He immediately seized the opportunity to scour her with his gaze. She was cold, he noted immediately, running his fingertips over the goosebumps that were spread over her breasts. She gasped sharply when he brushed his hands over her pert nipples.

“Madara, stop,” Sakura said, her voice breathy but commanding.

Madara stilled at her command. “Not Uchiha-sama anymore?” he teased, ignoring the call to grab her thighs and push her back until she straddled his groin. He could feel her heat and the prickle of hair between her legs. She was pressed against him so intimately now that of course it was absurd that she should call him Uchiha-sama.

“This is counter-productive,” she argued.

Madara could not have disagreed more. In fact, it suddenly felt so clear to him. Sakura didn’t belong to Sasuke; she belonged to him, and this he knew for certain. The vision had made that abundantly clear.

He wasn’t just here because he needed her help with the curse (and because she needed his). She was here to be the wife he needed, to help him fix his clan. He was here to save her from Sasuke, from a life of misery. Somehow fate had messed up and allowed his soulmate to be born too far apart from him. This could only have been fate’s attempt to right that wrong.

“God, you are beautiful,” Madara said, lifting his hand from her chest to her face.

“Stop,” she said again, her voice trembling now. Madara realized she would need some more convincing. She was too hung up on Sasuke, but now that he understood his purpose here, he wasn’t going to let her slip away from him. 

“I can’t see you,” she whined. Madara grinned, amused by her frustrated tone.

Armed with the knowledge that he would now need to seduce her, lure her away from Sasuke, Madara lifted her off of his stomach and out her back on the solid stone to his right.

“Okay,” he said, rising up to his feet and wringing the cold water out of his hair. “I’ll go get our clothes.”


	24. Chapter 24

Back at the cottage, Sakura and Madara had both peeled out of their still damp clothing and put on a couple of the complimentary bathrobes from the lavish bathroom. There was both extravagance and intimacy in the action. Madara felt like a king sitting next to Sakura on the balcony, overlooking the field of sunflowers below.

It was only because of his kekkei genkai that he was able to see the damage his little Sunflower had done earlier. It was too far from their cottage to see with the naked eye. He supposed Sakura might have done this intentionally to keep this stellar view for herself. Madara couldn’t help but admire her as she stared out at the flowers.

He’d been admiring her since she’d wriggled back into the damp, white dress and lead him all the way back here in it. It was hard not to be enamored with her now, and the feeling made him quite dizzy.

The word ‘soulmate’ buzzed around his head. He couldn’t stop picturing her pregnant belly and the little dark-haired child that had clung to her chest.

Sakura, who had been silently admiring the sunflowers and the setting sun, set down her cup of tea and turned her head to look at him. Mesmerized by the way the sun gilded her pink hair, her beautiful profile, Madara could do nothing but stare back. She adjusted her robe tighter around herself, her face warm with contentedness.

“If you’ll behave yourself, I’d like to continue my research now,” she said, eyes glinting in the midafternoon sun.

“Do I have to?” he asked, thinking about all the places he wanted to touch her. “Isn’t it so much more fun when we aren’t behaving?”

“Fun,” she agreed, “but painful, too, right? All good things must come to an end.”

“We have a long time before our end, Sunflower,” he said. She truly had no idea.

“Oh?” she laughed. “How long do we have?”

Eternity, he wanted to say. He didn’t, only because she would ask questions he wouldn’t be able to answer right now. 

“Long enough that you should feel no remorse in conducting your research from the comfort of my lap,” he said instead. Shameless flirting was more his style than waxing poetic anyway.

He saw the hesitancy on her face, and for once it seemed unrelated to Sasuke. She wasn’t just trying to keep herself pure for her Uchiha suitor. She was new to these feelings, new to flirtation.

“Come here,” he said softly. “You beautiful little thing. Why do you tease me like this?”

“How am I teasing you?” she demanded, not without amusement. “I’ve been nothing but professional all day.”

Having had enough of her outright lie, Madara leaned across the chaise he sat in and yanked roughly on Sakura’s arm. She resisted, her dry expression giving him a good idea of how she felt about that. He didn’t relent though. He tugged again, and Sakura rolled her eyes as she stood up and moved to sit beside him on his chaise.

“It wasn’t very professional of you to take your dress off today,” he countered, untying the tie that cinched her robe around her waist.

“Madara,” she said, a little warningly, a little stressed. “You would never have seen me naked if you had left your Sharingan off like I told you to.”

“I’ll be less inclined to obey you if I get to see you naked when I don’t,” he teased.

She swatted his hands away and re-tied her robe. “Stop flirting,” she said. 

“Then stop being so perfect.”

Her skin flushed, but it was almost too much. The redness that burned in her cheeks churned all the way up to her ears and temples, enflaming her entire face with horrid splotches of embarrassment. Amused, Madara reached up and palmed her cheek, testing the heat with his skin.

“Why do you say things like that?” she asked with heartbreak clear in her voice.

“Don’t act like it’s a surprise,” he said. “Look at you. You were trying so hard to attract your Uchiha man. Maybe I’m not the one you wanted, but I can assure you that I’m more than capable of filling whatever shoes Sasuke filled in your head.”

“You mean the shoes of a husband?” she asked incredulously.

Madara growled, feeling himself harden at the thought of being her husband and fulfilling all of those husbandly duties. “Yes,” he answered gruffly, quickly grabbing both of her wrists and using them as leverage to flip them over. He straddled her hips with his knees, leaning down overtop of her.

She cowered beneath him, but with a demure, silky kind of uncertainty that made Madara want to blush.

“You can’t be my husband,” she said, though she didn’t sound very sure of herself.

“I can so,” he argued, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. He felt the flame in her ignite immediately. Her body became a coil, which curled itself around his. Her heart, fragile little thing it was, kicked up into a flurry of beats. Madara didn’t ease up, kissing her jaw, and then her neck. He buried his face in the skin there, blinking his eyelashes across the sensitive nerves.

“But you have your own time to get back to,” she whispered. He glanced at her eyes to find them closed. It was his invitation to kiss her brow, and then the tip of her nose, and finally, her lips.

“If I ever figure out how to get home, you bet your ass I’m taking you with me,” he said with edge. It was absurd to think he’d ever let a prize like her go.

Sakura pushed his chest with a firm hand. “I couldn’t go back with you,” she said, her voice a little more sure now. “I belong here. I belong with Sasuke.”

At this, Madara felt a familiar dark pull in his head. It was a bizarre feeling to be so high on the feeling of Sakura, of her nearness, her softness, her brightness, and still feel that awful, excruciating cloud of pain press against his skull.

“No,” he snapped, grabbing her arms and pinning them to her sides. “You do not belong to Sasuke. Do you understand?”

He felt her chakra amassing. He’d be surprised if she didn’t launch him over the balcony and send him crashing into the sunflowers, fiery little thing that she was. Fine, he thought, pulling himself off of her.

If that was how she wanted to play, then he would just have to seduce her the old-fashioned way.

“You have no business telling me who I do and don’t belong with,” she said, even though he had pulled away from her. She sat alone on the chaise, and judging by the way she curled her body around itself, she missed his heat. Her body knew the truth her head wouldn’t let her believe yet.

He sat down again beside her, careful not to touch her at all. “Do you want to know what I saw in my vision?” he asked.

“It wasn’t a vision,” she explained. “It was just a hallucination.”

Madara knew in his heart that it wasn’t just a hallucination. It was a prophecy. It was the future and a warning all rolled into one. He couldn’t decipher what every part of it meant, but he knew for a fact that Sakura would be his.

“I saw you,” he said, as if Sakura couldn’t have put that together for herself. 

There was much about his vision that made no sense to him. But there was one thing he knew for sure.

The moon had put him and Sakura together for a reason.

“I saw a glimpse of our future.”

///

Madara rested his cheek on his pillow and stared at Sakura. From her own pillow, Sakura stared back.

She had looked at his head again, and was very professional. Her touch was as cold and clinical as ever as she took her sweet precious time in his head. In fact, she had spent the rest of the afternoon silently pushing her chakra through his brain, and the entire evening after that.

She hadn’t bothered to clear back that bit of darkness she’d managed to bring out earlier, and Madara didn’t have the gumption to ask her to. Instead, he’d gritted his teeth and let the darkness grow and grow as he seethed. Hours passed under her robotic care, and all he could do was resist the urge to caress her or smack her.

Now he found himself trapped in a bed with her. He hated it and he loved it. The darkness pushed against his skull. It throbbed with pain, but he tried to ignore it. His gaze flicked down to her fingers. If only he could suck the healing out of them. He imagined kissing and sucking each and every one of her fingers, as if that alone could fix the darkness in his head.

When his eyes found hers again, it was clear hers hadn’t moved at all. What was she staring at him for? Shouldn’t she be professionally and soundly sleeping?

“Does your head hurt?”

He blinked, then nodded.

“What are you thinking about?”

He blinked again, considering her question. She was asking as a medic. She wanted to know the answer as it pertained to his headache.

Madara glanced back at her hands. “How much I want to kiss your fingers.”

Said fingers released the blanket they held in favor of brushing against Madara’s temple with a gesture that was somehow both tender and cold at the same time.

Sakura then pulled her hand back to her chest, readjusting her blanket. She closed her eyes and gave a long, breathy sigh.

Madara stared at her, unsure if the flutter of hope he’d felt when she’d touched his face was for anticipation of her healing chakra or the affection he was suddenly craving from her.

“Did you do this to me on purpose?” he asked, never quite sure whether he was unwittingly participating in some sort of experimenting on her part. 

“Do what?” she asked innocently.

“Make my head hurt.”

“You made your own head hurt, Uchiha-sama,” she said curtly.

He drew in a breath for patience, trying not to let any more of that darkness descend on him. He couldn’t let the curse get the best of him where Sakura was concerned. He wouldn’t let his relationship with her turn out like Sasuke’s.

“I won’t ask you to fix it, Sunflower,” he said, refusing to give up the nickname, even if he was trying to play nice. “But my heart feels a little strange. Could you take a look?”

Skeptical, but ever curious, Sakura reached her hand toward his chest. He captured her hand and clamped it down over his heart, lacing his fingers halfway with hers. Her fingers were frigid in spite of how warm they were together in the bed. He took pleasure in warming them with his body.

“Let go of me, you creep.”

Sheepishly, he released her hand. But though her hand was now free, Sakura held her palm against his beating heart. She flexed her fingers a bit tentatively. Madara was amused to see her eyes glued to his chest. Then she pulled her lower lip between her teeth and bit down.

Madara’s heart jolted in his chest, and Sakura’s eyes darted up to his. Her cheeks were pink but her eyes searched his unabashedly.

It was hard not to notice the signs of her arousal – the peak of her nipples beneath her thin nightshirt, the flush of her neck, her heady scent. She couldn’t resist him, either.

“Sakura,” he murmured, inching just a little bit closer to her. He reached forward and cupped her neck, tracing her throat with his thumb. He followed the arc down to her breast and tugged ever-so-gently at her hard nipple through her thin shirt. “I could make you come so hard,” he said. “I bet you’ve never even come before, have you?”

“Uchiha-sama!”

“Relax,” Madara said. “I know you want to be professional. I’m just point—”

“You are out of your fucking mind if you think you can make me come harder than I can make myself come.”

Nothing could have prepared Madara for such a filthy sentence to come out of his sweet little Sunflower’s mouth. He was suddenly sporting a rather large erection, which was not going to be fun to deal with if he couldn’t get Sakura on board, too.

“You think just because I’m inexperienced that I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said. “But I’m a thousand percent sure I could make you come harder than you’ve ever come in your life.”

No blood left in his brain to formulate sentences, Madara rolled on top of her and pushed down on her hips with his. Where had she learned such filthy things from?

To his utter surprise and disbelief, Sakura did not look angry at all by this turn of events. Her eyes were exploring his body at her leisure. He could practically feel them tracing across his arms and shoulders, then chest, stomach, lower to where their bodies were pressed together.

She glanced back up at his face, cheeks pink. He braced his hands on either side of her face, leaving her hands free to tentatively reach up and touch his chest.

Professionalism was just an act. This was inevitably personal.

“I believe that, Sunflower,” he murmured. “I’ll never forget how hard you made me come with just these pretty little fingers.”

He caught the hand that hovered over his heart and kissed the tip of her pointer finger. She gaped up at him with wide eyes. He could see that the simple action had flushed heat through her entire body.

“I wonder what you can do with that mouth,” he teased, enjoying her new shyness.

“What can you do with yours?” she snapped, eyes bursting with fire. “Have you ever even made a girl come before?”

Oh, that was not what he needed to hear. He could never resist a challenge, but he couldn’t just give into his impulses. Now with her. She was more delicate than that. She was going to require finesse, some wooing.

“You are more than welcome to cash in that favor I owe you and see for yourself,” he offered, pressing his hips a little harder into hers. He felt her push back. It made him feel light-headed. They both knew they were teetering dangerously close to what they were trying to tiptoe around.

It wouldn’t be too much longer until the coil of sexual tension around them snapped.

“No, thanks,” she said dryly.

Madara was not offended. He could see the strain in her jaw. He could still smell her arousal, feel the dampness where he pressed his hip. If only he could spread those legs apart and show her how a real man should pleasure her. If it was the least she allowed, he could die a contented man.

“Fine,” he said, pitching himself down into the mattress beside her. He settled on his side and pulled Sakura flush against him. He curled himself around her, pressing his chest against her back, swallowing her tiny frame with his larger one.

It was expected that she would put up some sort of fight. He found the idea rather intriguing that she might wriggle against his tight hold. But even more endearing was the way she melted against him. Her cheek rested against his bicep. She folded her arms around his, and sighed with contentedness.

A surge of masculine pride filled his chest that she might find comfort in the wrap of his arms. It felt good to have her there. It was the safest place she could ever be.

Unfortunately, the position seemed to exacerbate his erection, which was now pressed intimately against Sakura’s fine ass. It throbbed painfully, and there was no way she wouldn’t feel its length against her.

She settled more comfortably against him, her eyes closed. “Madara?” she asked hesitantly.

“Hmm?”

He delighted in the shiver that rolled down her spine.

“I can’t sleep with your erection like that.”

“Are you offering to take care of it for me?” he asked, not daring to take his own question too seriously.

“Take care of it yourself,” she said through a relaxed yawn. “Whatever you need to do to get rid of it.”

Madara blinked. Did she want him to leave? Should he go to the bathroom and take care of it privately? That seemed to defeat the purpose of their tantalizing position and her titillating company.

A little off put, Madara began to slide toward the edge of the bed. Sakura’s warm body pulled after his, flipping over so she could face him. Her eyes were sparkling with a kind of humor that seemed to be at his expense, which made him feel a sudden burst of anger. She shouldn’t tease him like this. It was cruel.

“You don’t have to go,” she said, eyes wide, curious. “You can do it right here.”

Well, now that was a risky and dangerous game.

“You want to watch me?” he asked incredulously.

He hovered near the edge of the bed, holding the sheets away from his sweating body. Sakura watched him, eagerness and anticipation written clearly on her face. That seemed wrong. She had been against all this from the start. Not him. Why was he the one in this position now? Why couldn’t he be watching her?

“Look, but don’t touch,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “That’s the rule, isn’t it?”

“Why would such a pretty girl want to see something so vulgar?” he teased. “I guess I’m not the only pervert around here.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

He supposed he didn’t. Her lowly uttered words sent another pang of arousal through him. He slid back down against the mattress and moved a little closer to her. She watched as he rolled onto his side and gripped his painfully hard length in his hand.

Sakura’s doe eyes dipped down to the motion beneath the sheets. Madara released a shuddering sigh as he began to massage himself with slow, controlled motions. He’d never done this in front of someone before. He rarely even found it in him to indulge in the urge. If he was feeling so compelled, he’d instead go find suitable feminine company. It was truly in his most desperate times that he chose to satisfy his own masculine needs.

But it was not out of desperation that he touched himself now, though he couldn’t help but feel that tingly, electric desire urging him to go seek out a woman’s body, Sakura’s body.

It wasn’t just any woman that could satisfy this itch. The only woman he trusted with the job seemed to revel in the fact that he was having to deal with it himself.

Sakura’s eyes were locked onto his, mesmerized as he stroked himself beneath the sheets, hand stuffed into the loose boxers that covered him. He wanted so badly to lean forward and kiss her, but there was an equal thrill in the whole ‘no touching’ thing.

Without looking away from his face, Sakura pulled the sheets away from him. She gathered them around her small frame, leaving him exposed to the air on his side of the bed.

The whoosh of cold air pebbled the skin of Madara’s exposed chest. He reveled in the way Sakura’s gaze flittered over him, appraising, admiring. His hand, still clutched around himself, but covered by the fabric of his boxers, resumed movement.

Sakura’s eyes dipped down to his crotch, and he broke into a grin when she reached tentative finger toward him. Before making contact, she thought better of it and pulled her hand back beneath the sheets.

“Take your boxers off,” she said.

Surprised by the authority in her voice, Madara cocked his head to the side. He stared at her with amusement, with heat, with too much desire to properly handle. God, he wanted to cover her body with his and just fuck her.

“What will I get in return?” he asked, because it was hardly fair for him to bare himself completely to her while she remained entirely clothed. It also seemed unfair that she was able to so easily request this show from him. Something told him she wouldn’t be so easy to convince to do the same thing.

She didn’t say anything. In fact, she looked rather frightened, which made him feel a stab of guilt, though he wasn’t sure why she should feel that way. He was only doing as she asked.

So without an offer of compensation, Madara pushed his boxers down and kicked them off the side of the bed onto the floor. His throbbing member, now exposed to the chilly air, to Sakura’s unrelenting gaze, was weighty in his hand. He gave himself a firm pump; a pleasured sigh escaped his lips.

There was something so erotic about having Sakura’s eyes on him while he touched himself. He’d give almost anything to have Sakura wrap her own tiny hands around him, to pump him the way he was doing now. It was all too easy to remember how it had felt in the bathtub. His eyes slipped closed for a second.

When he opened them again, Sakura was a little closer. Madara grunted, quickening his pace. Her eyes were unwaveringly locked onto his, and it sent a sharp thrill through him.

He wanted to ask if she would care to help, though he was certain he already knew her answer. Perhaps this was another of her undisclosed experiments. Maybe she was just torturing him for her own amusement. He didn’t even care – he was just going to enjoy it.

Madara groaned again, sensation coiling in his gut. He would come soon.

He closed his eyes, though he was loathe to lose that precious eye contact with her. It was as exhilarating as any touch she’d ever given him. He could get lost in those eyes, drown in them, lose himself and never return.

Eyes closed, he could only imagine her, her naked body in her bathroom, the way her kiss had felt against his lips when she’d stood on that fallen tree, and the tender way she brushed her fingers against his temples. The thought that his temples were now an erogenous zone for him made his lips quirk up into an involuntary smile. 

The pressure and pleasure in his gut grew and crescendoed, his hand increasing in speed until he found his release with a shuddering sigh. His body went slack and he relaxed against the mattress with a content, satiated glow.

He opened his eyes again, hoping to find Sakura’s still locked onto his. Instead, he found them dipped down to her own hand. His seed, thick and white, had landed on the back of her pretty little hand, beading up like little pearls. He watched the liquid, which had sprayed onto the sheets around her as well, drip down to her wrist.

Amused, he glanced back up at her face.

“Sorry,” he said to her with a grin, not really feeling all that sorry. With a sigh and a stretch, Madara leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed his discarded t-shirt from the floor. Gently, he reached for Sakura’s hand and wiped away the offending bodily fluid.

She gingerly raised her hand up to give him better access. When he had finished, he kissed the back of her hand, at which, of all things, she blushed.

He wished he could return the favor now. He was certain he could show her a better orgasm than she’d ever had in her life, and something in his gut was telling him that if he were patient enough, he could get his wish.

“Better?” he asked her. She nodded demurely, her cheeks an adorable shade of red.

Still amused, Madara reached for her and pulled her back against his chest. He curled himself around her, sans erection this time, and tucked her head beneath his chin. Small thing that she was, she managed to fit so perfectly against the contours of his body, like she belonged there. She was warm and he could feel the stutter of her heartbeat.

Eventually, her stiff form relaxed against his. She sighed and nuzzled against his chest, which was strictly against her ‘no touching’ rule, but that only seemed to apply to sexual situations, and this wasn’t so sexual anymore.

“First time anyone’s ever seen me do that,” he murmured against her hair.

He felt her smile against his neck and it made his heart feel like it was soaring through space.

“It was really hot,” she said whispered, clinging to him with a little too much fervor.

She was fooling herself if she thought they could have a platonic relationship.

Madara tried not to think about that as he cradled her and closed his eyes.

///


	25. Chapter 25

When Madara woke up, he felt a momentary panic. He was alone in the bedroom, the silky sheets tangled around his bare legs. Darkness still cloaked the room. A glance at the window told Madara it was still the middle of the night.

His first instinct was to probe outward with his chakra and search for Sakura. Instead, he masked his chakra, hoping that she hadn’t been stolen away in the night, right from under his nose.

Tossing the sheets aside, he got to his feet and pulled his robe around his naked body. There was no sign of forced entry in the bedroom, and he could see the cracked bathroom door from where he stood. Empty.

Silently, he padded through the cottage, concealing his presence in case it was some sort of trap.

He heard a light scratching at the door. “Sakura?” he whispered, approaching the entryway. The scratching continued and Madara realized it was a raccoon or rodent of some kind. He opened the door to shoo it away and was surprised to see a familiar black cat on the porch.

It sauntered inside as soon as Madara opened the door. Madara watched it with a dry gaze and flicked on the lights. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see Sakura sitting in the corner of the room with a cup of tea in her lap. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulder and her eyes were red-rimmed.

“You’ve been crying?” he asked her.

Sakura’s eyes were on the cat. She watched it until it walked up to her chair, rubbed against it affectionately, and then jumped into her lap. Then, Sakura finally looked up to Madara’s face, absently scratching the cat’s ears.

She said nothing, but the look on her face told him that she wouldn’t be able to speak without bursting into tears.

“You ask a man to do dirty things for you and then just leave him cold in the middle of the night,” he accused. “Would you rather have the bed alone? I can sleep out here. That way I can keep an eye on that cat.”

Sakura blinked, moonlight glittering off the beads of moisture that clung to her lashes. “What?”

“I know you find it hard to resist me, so if you want to have the bed for yourself, I’ll find somewhere else to sleep,” he offered. “Maybe the bathtub. I’ve always been quite fond of them.”

“What’s the point?” she snapped bitterly. “My control is wafer-thin. All I’ve thought about for the past hour is how badly I want to ride your face.”

Madara felt his jaw drop to his feet. He gaped at her, trying to ignore the stiffening in his boxers. “Then why are you resisting your urges?” he demanded. “Is it because of Sasuke?”

“It has nothing to do with Sasuke,” she snapped. “You were angry with me earlier, and it made more of the darkness infect your head. You think that won’t happen again? You think it won’t get in the way of the research? What if I fail? What if I can’t fix anything and all I end up doing is creating a monster of you?”

This deluge of questions stunned Madara, who hadn’t thought much of any of that. He trusted her skills entirely, as she had been so confident. But he couldn’t blame her now for having self-doubt. This was uncharted territory for her as much as it was for him.

And he supposed that it was a bit unfair that all this time he had put his faith in her and the moon, and done little else to improve his own situation. In fact, he felt rather selfish for thinking of Sakura as a gift from the moon. 

“I wasn’t angry with you, Sunflower,” he said, because he wasn’t sure how else to comfort her. He wished he had her back in bed where he could caress her and touch her and nuzzle her. That was an easy language to speak.

“Then why does your head hurt again?”

“Because the thought of you and Sasuke together makes me want to sever my own brainstem,” he muttered with irritation.

This gave Sakura pause. She reached for the notebook that had been squished between the cushion and her thigh and flipped it open. Madara watched as she began rapidly scribbling notes and mumbling to herself.

“What are you writing?” he demanded.

“You’re jealous,” she said without looking up at him, “and if I want to invoke some of that darkness, I can use jealousy, not just anger.”

“I’m not jealous,” he said tersely, of course he had no valid defense for himself.

“I thought you wanted me to be with Sasuke,” she said. “You said it was the best possible future for your clan.”

Madara frowned. He wanted what would be best for both her and his clan in the long run. With Sasuke, that was a gamble. With him, he could guarantee it. But how could he tell her that without sounding arrogant or selfish?

In fact, he didn’t think it wise to be having any kind of conversation with her at all at this hour.

He snatched the blanket from around her shoulders, spilling the purring cat out of her lap. “I’m going to sleep in the bathtub,” he announced.

Sakura gaped at him, her expression half rage, half confusion.

An amused grin tugged at his lips, but he saved it for once he had turned around and she could no longer see his face. 

///

The bathtub, while spacious, was not very comfortable. It was a smooth, cold porcelain, and Madara struggled to find a comfortable position without inadvertently sliding into a less comfortable one. He missed the warmth of Sakura’s body, even just being in the same room as her.

All things considered, this wasn’t so bad. He had a roof over his head, food in his stomach. Sakura was soundly sleeping just on the other side of the hall.

He felt a new resolve for respecting her wishes, though he didn’t find himself agreeing with her position. Her research had the potential to save his entire clan, and he couldn’t risk messing that up just because he wanted to get a little handsy with her.

But at the same time, he could no longer deny that Sakura was no less than an angel, perfection that he was blessed to be able to touch in the salacious ways he already had. While it wasn’t good to press his luck, he wasn’t selfless enough to just let her go completely. If he had to wait, and play her coy little games, then he could live with that. For now.

He didn’t think Sakura could hold out for much longer. Her attraction to him was just as obvious, and he now believed her to be a bit more perverted than she had seemed at first.

Her heated words from earlier sent sharp pleasure dancing down his spine. She’d thought about riding his face. His throat burned at the wickedness of it, the lecherous, sinful, dirty nature of such an act. He could just imagine the feel of her silky thighs clenched against his cheeks, her fingers curled against his scalp as she grinded herself against his mouth.

Oh, he’d show her a good time, if she ever allowed such a thing. He’d leave her a quivering mass of limp limbs.

Growing hard again at the images brewing in his head, Madara reached for his erection. Maybe another go might help him fall asleep.

“Really? Again?”

Startled, Madara glanced in the doorway to find that he had been snuck up on. Sakura, dressed in her thin, long nightshirt, stood clutching onto the doorframe, her legs crossed at the ankles.

He let go of his erection, which only grew more strained against his boxers at the sight of her. Sleep had mussed her hair and her eyes were a little milky. Adorable was the only appropriate word to describe her.

“I have to pee,” she said.

“So pee.”

She scowled at him, stomping across the tile to snatch his blanket away. She tossed it out into the hallway, giving him a petulant look. “Leave,” she said a bit more firmly.

With as much dignity as he could muster after having been caught nearly masturbating, Madara climbed out of the bathtub and settled Sakura with a disapproving look. “You give a lot of orders, Sunflower,” he said lowly to her, letting his lips brush softly against the shell of her ear. Perhaps if he tortured her the same way she tortured him, she might cave.

A thousand other things crossed his mind to say to her, but between his erection and his nerves, he thought it best to just say nothing. Instead, he collected his blanket from the hall, shut the bathroom door behind him, and made his way back to the bedroom.

The silky sheets were still tousled, and after spending a few hours in the bathtub, they looked more than inviting. He slid beneath the covers, his body magnetically pulled to the warmth Sakura had left behind.

It was such a simple luxury, this bed. He’d been so used to sleeping on his cot, or on the ground, and alone. Would he ever be able to sleep again without craving Sakura’s body against his?

When Sakura returned to the bedroom, she seemed unconcerned with Madara’s presence in the bed. She merely slipped into the sheets beside him.

She sank down against her pillow and stared at him. There was a pained expression on her face that made Madara’s heart clench in his chest.

“I want to know what you saw in your hallucination.”

“Why?” he asked suspiciously. “It was just a hallucination.”

“But you don’t think that,” she argued. “You said you saw a glimpse of our future.”

Madara frowned. For her to ask him to explain this was basically to ask him to bare his soul for her. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that they’d forged a lasting relationship already, nor did he want to contemplate that being her husband also meant loving her, which was very different from making love to her, which was something he felt far more comfortable doing.

But since his vision had practically written it in the stars for him, he had no doubt that he would eventually love her, and therefore there should be no shame in admitting to her what he had seen in his vision.

He looked at her pretty face, so still and ethereal in the moonlight. Her cheeks were a little ruddy, but she was glowing with that sort of middle-of-the-night air that made her seem like a waif, an apparition, a dream.

“You were my wife,” he said, sorely tempted to touch a fingertip to her cheek and drag it down to the pulse point on her neck. “You had one child on your hip and another in your belly.”

He was amused to see her skin flush prettily under his gaze. “What happened?” she asked.

“Something was hurting you,” he said. “The boy turned to ash and floated away, and then… something else happened to you. I don’t know. I think you had a miscarriage.”

Sakura’s face flickered into a deep frown. Her eyes searched his, worried, concerned.

“I saw Izuna, too,” he continued. “You were with him in his tent. I think he liked you. I don’t know why he wouldn’t.”

She flushed some more.

“When I saw the two of you together, I came closer,” he explained, leaving out the bit about feeling jealous of his own brother. “But when I got close enough, Izuna turned into Sasuke, and then he…”

“He what?” Sakura pressed, her eyes eager and finally starting to warm up.

“He slit your throat.”

She blinked and swallowed a lump in her throat. Madara blinked back, a little enamored with the way she looked at him with such undivided attention.

“I see,” she said softly. Her hand, which had been curled up into a fist at her side, inched a little closer to him. Tentatively, she tapped her fingers against the silk sheets. “How did you know I was your wife in your vision?”

He cocked his head, a little curious about her line of questioning. “Just a feeling,” he murmured in answer.

“I see,” she said again. “Do you have that feeling now?”

A smile tugged at his lips again, lighting him up from the inside out. “Only every time I look at you.”

A fleeting smile found its way to her lips, too, but then it was whisked away as quickly as it had appeared. Her features darkened, first with a cloying fear that Madara felt emanating from her in thick waves, and then with a desperation that made his heart lurch in his chest.

“Sasuke isn’t going to kill you,” he said, covering her hand was his. Her fingers froze beneath his, but she didn’t pull her hand away. “I won’t let him.”

“It was just a hallucination,” she said consolingly, her eyes warming up as they found their way to his.

She already knew he disagreed, so Madara didn’t bother to voice his opposition.

“You know sometimes I think I should just give up trying to maintain a platonic relationship with you,” she said. “You flirt so much and you have visions of me as your wife, and you’re just so goddamn handsome.”

Madara’s chest fluttered with a light, nerve-wracking feeling that he hadn’t experienced since he’d been a boy. He tightened his hold around Sakura’s hand, resisting the urge to bring it to his mouth and kiss it.

“Sometimes the way you look at me makes me feel like I could just float right off the ground,” she said with a demure smile. “And sometimes I don’t care at all about Sasuke or getting you back to where you belong. I just want to steal you away and kiss you until we both die from lack of air.”

Madara grinned at her.

“But I can’t let these feelings get in the way of my research,” she said. “You understand, don’t you?”

“I trust your judgment, Sakura,” he said, lacing their fingers together to rest against the silk sheets. “But maybe there’s a way to indulge in these feelings without compromising the research.”

“I’ll need more notes before I can determine if that’s even possible,” she said. “I worry that your feelings for me might affect how the curse manifests itself. There will be nothing to observe if you don’t feel any darkness at all, but you’ll lose control if you feel too much. If any of the darkness has something to do with me, it’ll be much harder for me to remain impartial—”

“Don’t kid yourself, Sakura,” he said. “You aren’t impartial. But I understand what you’re saying. Liaisons between us have the potential to become ugly, especially now that you’ve deduced that jealousy can, in fact, induce the darkness. That puts us in a dangerous place where Sasuke is concerned.”

Sakura’s blush bloomed over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you’d be jealous,” she said. 

“I would be, though,” he conceded. “Not just jealous, but angry, too. I’ve got pity for the little twerp, but I can’t forget that he threatened to kill you.”

Sakura began to shake her head, rolling halfway onto her back to stare up at the canopy above. “I don’t understand you,” she said. “It’s not like you couldn’t have any woman back home that you wanted. Why waste the mental energy on being jealous of Sasuke when you’re so… you?”

Intrigued by the way she seemed so relaxed, so open with him right now, Madara inched a little closer to her. His fingers twitched around hers, too afraid she’d never let him touch her like this again if he let go.

“You think there’s a whole field of women like you back home?” he asked. “That I could just pluck the prettiest one and make her my wife? If women were sunflowers, you’d be the actual sun. There’s only one of you, and of course I’ll be jealous of Sasuke for being the one you want.”

“Stop it.” Sakura yanked her hand out from under his, ignoring Madara’s hiss of disapproval. “I’m not some unicorn for you to pine after.”

“No, you do have your faults, don’t you, Sakura?”

She turned her head to the side to glare at him, but it was so endearing that he could do nothing but grin back at her in return.

“You’ll make a good wife someday, Sakura.” Whether his or Sasuke’s, Madara didn’t know.

“You’d make a really sexy husband,” she replied, flicking a strand of hair out of her eyes.

“Is this you trying to be impartial?” he asked with a sleepy half grin.

“You’re objectively sexy, Uchiha-sama,” she explained primly. “That’s why this is so hard for me. I’m honestly so repulsed by your personality. You’re quite lucky to be so attractive.”

Madara barely registered her words, but he knew enough to be able to tell that she was teasing him, and that she found him attractive. And with that hazy, sleepy smile on her face she was attractive, too. She always was.

“You’re so attractive,” he echoed softly, trailing his fingertips lightly over her wrist and then her hand. He was fascinated by the texture and color of her skin, the size of her tiny little arm compared to his much larger one, and the way goosebumps raised the hairs on her arm.

She let out a noise, half sigh, half moan. Feeling heat creep up his neck, Madara glanced up at her face.

Her eyes, wide pools of fear and shame and something else that made Madara want to fold her into his chest and stroke her hair, blinked up at him. She held her breath for a moment, and Madara held his, too. He didn’t even want to look at her – her fear, which appeared very real even without the Sharingan, was of him, Madara.

The thought sickened him, and he wasn’t sure how to rectify the situation. He supposed he should leave the bed, return to his bathtub. He had offered her the comfort of the bed and then stolen it back before the night was over.

But Sakura flipped onto her side, her back facing him before he could decide what to do.

“Goodnight, Uchiha-sama,” she said, her voice unreadable.

“Goodnight, Sunflower,” he whispered so quietly he wasn’t sure she heard him.

///

Blinding, searing pain exploded behind Madara’s eyes. He blinked, his vision flashing and blaring. Rubbing at his eyes made orbs and circles of light dance around his head. His heart beat rapidly in his chest.

Izuna’s face flashed across his mind. Madara’s heart seized in his chest. He watched a young Izuna nearly topple over the side of the cliff to his death. Before Madara’s heart could calm down – it was only a memory, one that seemed from so long ago, he saw Hashirama’s face. Hashirama was motionless, his body pitched into a heap on the ground.

It had been a little too rough a spar, Madara remembered. He couldn’t forget that moment of panic and fear he’d felt when he thought he’d inadvertently killed his best friend.

And then Hashirama was gone. He was at the Valley of the End, staring up at his own cracked, crumbling likeness. The stone was overgrown with moss and algae. It was almost unrecognizable.

Pressure against his chest and stomach made Madara convulse. His vision began to swim again, and blindly he reached forward to push away whatever was crushing him.

Gasping for breath, he caught two arms in his hands and tore them away from his body. He rolled over, pinning his attacker beneath him. Pain was still searing behind his eyes, his heart kicked into overdrive. His brain felt tickled and electrified, yet somehow numb at the same time.

His vision slowly came back to him. Still panting, he blinked.

Sakura’s face was beneath his. He held her arms pinned above her head. His legs were on either side of her hips, his entire weight on her. She struggled to breath in his hold, her eyes brimming with fear.

“What were you doing to me?” he demanded, knowing that the tickling sensation in his head could only have come from her.

She trembled like a baby bird underneath him and he nearly rolled his eyes at her foolish antics. Like he hadn’t seen her punch a crater through a field of sunflowers. Annoyed, he shoved himself away from her and rolled back to his side of the bed, rubbing at his eyes and temples.

The mattress dipped with her weight. He felt her roll closer to him, felt her heat against his side though she wasn’t quite touching him.

“I was testing what other emotions will bring darkness, and to what degree,” she said. “I probed the section of your brain that lights up when you feel fear.”

He opened his eyes to glare at her. “While I was sleeping?” he demanded.

“I thought it might trigger painful memories, so I wanted to try it when you were asleep,” she said sheepishly. “I didn’t know it would wake you up.”

“You sitting on top of my chest woke me up,” he mumbled bitterly.

She was silent for a minute, her eyes searching his. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Here, let me get rid of your headache.”

She reached for his head again but Madara pushed her hands away. He flopped unceremoniously on the mattress, pulling her pillow out from underneath her to hold over his head. Morning light was beginning to pour through the windows, but he wasn’t quite ready to wake up yet.

And now that he’d had Izuna’s face in his mind, it was harder to get his heart to calm down. It killed him that he couldn’t reach Izuna right now to make sure he was okay. He’d begun to miss his younger brother’s company.

Madara wasn’t sure how long he was curled there between the pillows, lamenting his brother’s absence. He’d gotten so little sleep last night, and he was beginning to feel rather cranky about his whole frustrating situation.

It wasn’t until Sakura reentered the room several hours later that Madara felt the compulsion to rouse himself. He lifted himself up, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her.

She stood in the doorway with a tray of food – her peace offering.

“Hungry?” she asked with a shy smile.

He eyed her warily as she approached the bed and sat down beside him. She set the tray of food on the table beside the bed. Madara ignored the clawing in his stomach at the smell of fried eggs and grilled fish.

“Why don’t you have some breakfast?” she asked. “Then maybe I can take another look at your head.”

When Madara didn’t answer her or make a move for the food, Sakura cocked her head curiously to the side. “Does your head hurt?” she asked.

He thought of refusing to answer her, but that seemed counterproductive so he merely nodded. She immediately pressed her fingertips to his temples, cooling chakra rushing to alleviate his pain.

“My research plan for now is to fill out a chart I’ve created that will map out each of your emotions and how they are affected by your curse,” she explained, her voice clinical and certain. “Do you feel in tune with your emotions, Uchiha-sama?”

Madara reached for a slice of mango from the tray beside the bed and popped it into his mouth. “No,” he answered because he wasn’t really sure how else to answer a question like that.

“Would you consider yourself an emotional person?” she asked.

Madara paused as he mulled this over. “No.”

Sakura frowned, and it was clear from her expression that she seemed to disagree. Something about the look on her face was soft and sad in a way that made Madara feel a little angry. It pulled a little more darkness into his head, seeping through the cracks in Sakura’s chakra.

She seemed surprised, her fingers floating away from him with shock. They hovered in front of his face for a moment before she reached for his temples again and resumed her chakra funneling like nothing had happened.

“Do you have a favorite emotion?” she asked, her fingers faltering a little bit on his brow. He looked up at her, noting her rigid posture and the way her body was angled tensely around his. He would like to have hoisted her up onto his lap where she would be more comfortable, but he knew she wouldn’t like that.

“No,” he said again.

Sakura sighed, and she did not seem amused by his new single-word vocabulary. Instead of commenting on it, she reached for her notebook and pulled it open, setting it beside Madara’s leg on the bed.

“Alright, then,” she said. “I’ll try to make this quick for you, Uchiha-sama.”

Madara resisted the urge to sigh as she straightened her arms and closed her eyes. Her chakra filled his head, jarring but not exactly unpleasant. He was used to the feeling now, even though he felt a little unsettled about the way Sakura had woken him up.

But since she was supposed to be the expert, he let her do her thing and put up no fuss. He merely grazed on the breakfast she had brought him.

///


	26. Chapter 26

Sakura spent an achingly long time in his head. Unlike before, now when she filtered her chakra through his brain, it was painful. She poked and prodded at parts of his brain that lit up all sorts of yucky, unpleasant feelings in him. Fear, rage, jealously, rejection, loneliness, betrayal, anxiety, frustration, and guilt. All of it flittered through his head, prickling at his brain, clawing at his skin.

It made it hard to breathe, hard to think straight. Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to leave the comfort of the bed. His limbs felt heavy. His body felted weighted with depression, dejection.

He had no real reason to feel all the things he was feeling. He knew it was all a part of Sakura’s research, and he hoped that it was important. With the way he was feeling now, he wouldn’t dare to believe that she had done any of this to him in vain. It was torture.

By lunchtime, Sakura had scribbled so many notes in her little book that Madara could see one side of her hand blackened with ink, and little red marks where her pen had rested against her fingers. Her book was overflowing with notes now, and only a few days into their research.

That was a good sign, Madara hoped.

“Maybe we should take a break now,” Sakura said, finally pulling her hands away from his head to hold them tentatively in her lap. “Would you like to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Some sunlight would do you some good.”

He glared at her, though he wasn’t really upset with her. He was just feeling… unnerved by all the negative emotions he’d been forced to feel. It was unnatural, and not surprising that it left him in a bad mood.

“Yes,” he agreed, flinging his legs off the side of the bed to stretch them. “Let’s go for a walk.”

///

“This won’t be like our last walk, will it?” Madara asked, peering skeptically at Sakura. He didn’t think he could handle another experiment like the sensory deprivation things. Not on top of all the negativity already buzzing around in his head.

Sakura shook her head. “No, Uchiha-sama,” she said, linking her arm through his. She had changed into another sundress, this one a little more modest. Its skirt brushed against his legs as she turned to pull the cottage door shut behind her. “You need to rest your mind. I made some good progress today, but I’m certain that it’s affected your mood. We can do whatever you’d like to do today. What would help you relax?”

Madara dutifully held his arm up for Sakura, who led him down the cottage steps as if he were her frail patient. He could think of a few things that might relax him, none of which Sakura would likely consent to. His grin was lecherous when it settled back on her face.

But anticipating her rejection, Madara held his tongue. Instead, he wondered what he might do at home were he in need of relaxation. Often he found himself sparring with Hashirama to vent out his frustrations, but that wasn’t the same thing as relaxing, was it? Did Madara even like to relax? The only thoughts of it he’d had as of late were those fleeting but wonderful moments in which Sakura pressed her body against his and allowed them to fall asleep that way.

That was a comfort he hadn’t even considered before meeting her – that sleeping beside a woman would be so warm and serene and contenting.

Again, though, the idea would likely be rejected immediately. He flicked his gaze to her face again as they walked the street toward the market. He wondered if maybe she might enjoy something like that, too, in secret – a day curled around each other, wrapped in blankets.

“I don’t know,” he said, clearing his throat as well as his thoughts. “What do you like to do to relax?”

“Oh,” she said, grinning a little as her eyes came up to meet his. “I like to read,” she said, “and take baths. There’s nothing quite as relaxing as taking a bath while reading a really good book.”

The street grew more crowded the closer they got to the market. It was no longer just Sakura’s voice, but lots of voices that filled the air with chatter. People bustled around, carrying shopping bags, balloons, and sticks of candy.

“Sometimes I like to talk to Ino to relax,” Sakura continued, her arm tightening around his as if she were afraid the appearance of people would startle him. “She’s the kind of person I can really spill all my problems to. It makes me feel a lot better to get stuff like that off my chest.”

She gave a dejected sigh and glanced up at the late-morning sky. “I miss her.”

Madara didn’t know what to say. He missed Izuna so fiercely he was sure that there was nothing he could say to comfort Sakura that wouldn’t sound patronizing or mean. Ino was in Konoha. Sakura would see her again eventually.

Madara could only hope he’d get to see his brother again.

“You can spill all your problems to me,” Madara offered. “I’m a good listener.” This was an alternative he wouldn’t mind. He’d love to hear what was troubling her. A small, protective part of him even wondered if he wouldn’t be able to help her.

“You’re the one who needs relaxing, Uchiha-sama,” she said, patting his arm affectionately. “I really put you in a bad headspace this morning, didn’t I? You poor thing.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, feeling rather patronized.

“Are you at least making progress?” he asked. “Your notebook’s getting pretty full.”

She beamed at him, and for a second he had forgotten how blindingly beautiful the warmth of her smile could be.

“Actually, things are going really well,” she said. “In fact, because of the nature of my hypothesis, it wouldn’t be dangerous at all the begin testing to see about awakening your Mangekyou soon, if you’d be interested in that.”

“How soon?” he asked, his voice a little eager. Seeing Sasuke’s Mangekyou had lit up the competitive side of him. If he ever hoped to snag Sakura away from him, he couldn’t do it without at least having an equal prowess.

And with the Mangekyou, maybe his path would become a little more clear to him. In spite of Sakura’s guiding hand, being in this time still felt a lot like stumbling around in the dark.

“That depends on how well you do at relaxing today, Uchiha-sama.”

He frowned, unsure of how that would help.

“You’ll want to have a clear mind tomorrow, Uchiha-sama,” she said in answer to his silent question. “Trust me. Just try to let go of any stress or residual negative feelings you have. I know that’s easier said than done.”

They continued to walk through the increasingly busy streets. Madara pondered what Sakura had said, thinking about what might relax him enough that she could continue her research. He was very eager to awaken his Mangekyou, and if relaxation was the key to that, the he’d do his best to find peace today.

“Your bath idea doesn’t sound so bad,” he said thoughtfully, tapping his chin with his finger. “We do have a pretty nice tub.”

“We do,” Sakura agreed with a grin. “And there’s a bookstore in the market, so we can pick up something for you to read. Oh! And there’s also a little apothecary where we can get bath salts and soap and oils and stuff.”

Less enticed by the idea of fancy soaps, Madara’s gaze flicked ahead to the market as they approached. There was, indeed, a bookstore, he remembered, and it might not be so bad to peruse the shelves. It had been a long time since he’d read a book.

///

The bookstore was overwhelmingly cramped. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to be a favored spot either by the locals or the tourists. It was empty save for a few customers lingering around the shelves. It was just that all the shelves were packed so close together that being inside made Madara feel a little claustrophobic.

The smell of the store was overpowering, mothballs, mold, dust, aged paper. It tickled Madara’s nose and made his head ache. Sakura didn’t seem bothered by it. She had already piled her arms high with colorful tomes.

Madara, on the other hand, struggled to find something suitable for him. Back when he’d read as a child, it had often been historical and clan related texts given to him by his father. Reading for pleasure was almost unheard of, yet most of these books seemed to be fictional, aimed at nothing but mindless entertainment.

He supposed that was the point – relaxation. If he must, he could find at least a couple of books here with topics that would suit him.

Sakura, noting his struggle, came up behind him. Madara helped her, grabbing onto one stack of books she had precariously balanced on her open palm. 

“Need some help?” she asked.

Madara frowned, flipping through the books she had collected. They were mostly fiction as well, with a few herbal and medicinal books thrown into the mix. 

“Maybe I could read one of your favorite books,” he suggested, not feeling interested in spending the rest of the day hunting for books when he trusted her judgment well enough to recommend him a decent one. 

To Madara’s surprise and amusement, Sakura’s face lit up. “Yes!” she agreed. “I know a few I think you might like. Here, hold onto these for me.”

She passed her mountain of books sheepishly into Madara’s arms. Madara glanced at the man behind the counter near the back of the bookstore helplessly. When Sakura had disappeared between the shelves again, Madara dumped the stack of books onto the counter.

“Don’t worry, sir, I’ll hold these for you until you’re finished,” said the old man with a pleasant smile.

Madara murmured his thanks and made his way back to the shelves. He recalled that Sakura had been reading a book the day he had met her. She’d been in the trees, reading something with a bright orange color. It had made her laugh, he remembered, feeling a smile tug at his own lips.

Concentrating on the memory, Madara visualized the cover of the book, trying to remember any little detail that might help him locate it.

His eyes scanned the bookstore, but it only took a moment of searching before he found what he was looking for. In the center of the store near the entrance was a display set up with a bright, colorful series of books, one of which had a familiar orange cover.

Curious, Madara padded over to the display and picked up the orange book.

The cover, a rather uninspiring picture of a beach and a single umbrella in the sand, bored him. It wasn’t until Madara flipped open to the middle of the book that his fingers faltered and he nearly dropped the book to the floor.

His heart raced at the sight of the sordid words on the page, and what was very clearly a graphic sexual encounter being described in great detail. A hot flush on his cheeks, Madara glanced toward Sakura, who was reaching to grab a book from a tall shelf.

Was this really what she had been reading that day?

Madara thought back to the memory and the crystal clear picture he had of her, thanks to his Sharingan.

This was definitely the same book.

“Stop looking, Sakura,” he called out to her. “I’ve found the book I want.”

She added the book to her ever-growing collection and walked over to him while he quickly scanned through the book’s pages. It was a romance novel, obviously, though the very graphic nature of it was what intrigued him so much. He’d never given much thought to the romantic tales he’d often heard women spinning back in his own time. It seemed childish and trivial at the time.

Now he couldn’t help but wonder what Sakura would think of those stories, if she would fantasize and long and titter about the unrealistic men from them. Perhaps she had her own ideas of a perfect romance.

Her cheeks became as red as her little sundress as she approached him. He couldn’t help but grin at her, holding the orange book aloft teasingly.

“This is one of your favorite, isn’t it?” he asked, waving it tauntingly in front of her face. “And you call me a pervert.”

“That’s because you are a pervert,” she snapped, snatching the book out of his hands as if there weren’t an entire table of them right next to him.

“If I’m a pervert, then so are you,” he accused. “Maybe you don’t remember, since it was so late in the evening, but last night you told me you’d thought about riding my face.”

She flushed some more, if that were even possible. With an angry humph, she added the orange book to her stack and marched toward the counter where the rest of her books waited.

Hardly a word escaped her mouth as she made her purchases and them collected them in the paper sacks that were handed to her. She shoved them unceremoniously into Madara’s hands, and silently made her way out of the bookstore and back into the street.

She was silent, and Madara repressed laughter at her expense as she stalked over to the nearby apothecary. He followed her, adjusting the bags in his arms. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, far too bulky with all the bags to navigate around the dainty tables of fancy soaps and bottles.

A gentleman from behind the counter in the back approached her, offering a square soap for her to sniff. Sakura leaned down to sniff and the two began to chat about different scents.

Uninterested, Madara’s gaze drifted down to Sakura’s exposed legs. They looked silky smooth in the warm shadow of her dress, and Madara imagined what it would be like to kiss those thighs and hook them over his shoulders.

Masculine fingers – not Madara’s, pressed down on Sakura’s wrist. The tips of them smeared oil into her skin. Another hand brought her arm up, holding her wrist up so she could sniff.

“See?” said the man. “It reacts with your body’s chemistry.”

Madara blinked, watching Sakura’s face carefully. Was this man flirting with her?

“Oh.” Sakura leaned toward him, sniffing the oil on his fingers. “That smells amazing.” Madara blinked again, feeling his heart stutter in his chest as she fluttered her lashes at the man and smiled.

Feeling like he might be in some sort of test of hers, Madara closed his eyes and tried to relax. What were his most relaxing thoughts? Fishing. He thought of early mornings on the river, catching breakfast with Izuna. It was odd that he found the act of fishing so serene, yet it always left his body coiled tightly like a spring.

It felt that way now, too, Madara thought dryly to himself. Think relaxing thoughts.

Cool fingers were suddenly on his arms, guiding him back out into the street.

“That sucker just gave me a ton of stuff for free!” she said, tugging him back down the street toward their cottage. “All I had to do was smile and flutter my lashes and he just handed them right over.”

Her footsteps faltered for a moment, but then picked up briskly again. “Don’t worry,” she called back over her shoulder to Madara, who was a bit befuddled as she dragged him along. “When we get all this sorted out, I’ll pay him back for everything. This stuff is really expensive and I’ve got to stretch my funds as far as I can before I need to go back to Konoha for more.”

She then stopped completely, causing Madara to bump into her back. “Oh,” she said, spinning around to face him. “Did you feel jealous? Let me take a look.” She reached her hand up toward his head, but he caught her arm. Curious, he brought her wrist to his nose, brushing it softly over her skin, and inhaled.

It was a smoky, ashy blend of cedar and vanilla – a far cry from her usual cucumber and coconut.

“I thought it would smell good on you,” Sakura said, and Madara realized he still held her arm so he let go. She dropped it back to her side for a moment before she brought it back up to his temple.

Madara stared at her as he felt her chakra seep into his head. Had she chosen the scent just for him?

“Nothing?” Sakura asked, confusion written clear on her face. She pulled her hand back down to her side, glancing up at him surreptitiously. “You weren’t jealous.”

“Oh, come on,” Madara said, rolling his eyes. “If you’re not going to betray Sasuke for me, you’re not going to do it for that guy.

Sakura’s eyes flashed with a dangerous sort of ire that he’d not seen from her before save for the very first day he’d met her when he had stopped her from jumping over the cliff.

“Sasuke has nothing to do with anything!” she screeched so loudly that Madara felt the need to shush her as passersby began staring.

“You think I’m worried about betraying Sasuke?” she demanded fiercely, but a little more quiet. “Not a chance. Fortunately for me, I know apothecary worker that might be persuaded into letting me ride his face tonight.”

Her outburst stunned him, and he suddenly felt foolish. Even Sakura seemed foolish to him in that moment.

“Do you want me to be jealous or do you want me to relax?” Madara demanded.

She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again.

“I didn’t particularly enjoy watching you flirt with another man,” he conceded, “but it’s hard to feel jealous. I know that if you’re going to ride anyone’s face tonight, it’ll be mine.”

There was something deeply unsettling about the calm but angry look in her eye. Madara took a step back, feeling like he might have just goaded her into doing the exact opposite of what he wanted her to do.

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” she snapped.

“Oh, I’ve got nerve, huh?” he asked. “Don’t act like you don’t share any blame here. You know you want me. So badly. Why even deny it?”

“I’m not denying it. I’m saying that I can still choose who I do what things with,” she said, her voice frosty.

“Oh, really?” he asked dryly. “So you’re telling me that you would use some innocent guy to slake your lust so you can continue your research without jeopardizing it? Do you not realize that you’ve already jeopardized it?”

Her glare could have melted steel, but Madara clenched his jaw. She was being stubborn, and he needed to rectify that.

“I have not,” she argued.

“You sure have, Sunflower,” he said, thinking of how much he loved her, wishing that she would understand. “All this tension, it’s not just going to go away. Listen, I owe you one, don’t I? Let me make you come. I know there’s one thing in particular you want to try. You’ll have a clearer head afterward. Then we can go back to being professional.”

No part of him expected her to agree, nor did any think that things could ever be professional between them now. Some of his promises may have been empty, but there was one that he would undeniably keep.

“I will make you come so hard.”

Up until that moment, he was sure she would say no. It flashed across her eyes and rippled down her whole body – a wave of heat that lit her up from head to toe. Madara grinned, glad to have caught the moment with his Sharingan.

“You know all this cockiness is really a turn off,” she said pointedly.

He continued to grin. “No, it isn’t.”

Her resulting glare was slow and hot and dark and made Madara’s skin prickle sharply. “You know it isn’t,” he continued, because they both knew she loved his cockiness.

Confusion and frustration flickered across Sakura’s face. Madara felt his own brow furrow, wondering what had her so confused at this moment. Her expression was still dark, yet warm when she looked at him, but something in the air had shifted and cooled down everything.

It was more than a little annoying that he couldn’t tell what was going on in that little head of hers.

“I’m sorry, Uchiha-sama,” she said, her apology as genuine as he’d ever heard. “I wasn’t exactly trying to make you jealous, but a selfish part of me kind of wanted you to be. I shouldn’t have looked for that because it isn’t relevant to today’s research.”

Stunned again, Madara blinked at her, unprepared for an apology, for an admittance that she did want him to be jealous.

“I knew it,” he said confidently, leaning down toward her face, wearing his smuggest expression.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” she said, a little nervously, though he was far from upset now. In fact, he felt elated with the knowledge that she’d been honest about her feelings. “We should just try to focus on relaxing for the rest of the day.”

“Yes,” Madara agreed, though he had no idea why Sakura was so hellbent on the idea of relaxation. He could think of a number of things to do that were not exactly relaxing, but certainly enough to put some lethargy and contentedness into his bones.

But a bath seemed like a good enough idea for now.

///

Back at the cottage, Sakura made an exponential effort to keep Madara happy. She bustled around the cottage, drawing his bath, lighting candles, gathering books for him to read and music to listen to. She needn’t try so hard, he thought. He’d be content to sit outside on the chaise with her and look at the sunflowers.

But when she had finished, and there was a steaming hot bath in the heart-shaped tub prepared for him, Madara suddenly felt like he’d rather like to have a bath. The water was purple and blue thanks to some fizzy chalk that Sakura had dropped into it. It smelled like the cedar and vanilla oil he’d smelled on her wrist, and combined with the ambience of the dim lighting, the flickering candles, Madara felt relaxed before he’d even gotten in.

Sakura stood in the bathroom behind him, her expression adorable flustered. She held out a book for him, her cheeks red.

He shook his head. “I want the orange one.”

A scowl scrunched up her features for a precious second that Madara might have missed if he hadn’t had his Sharingan trained on her. Then she gave him a wry glare. “Fine.”

She stomped out of the bathroom to hunt down the orange book, and Madara took the opportunity to strip his clothes off and sink down into one half of his heart-bath.

The water was almost too hot, but he felt his muscles relax as he adjusted to the temperature. He went limp in the hot water, feeling a little like a cooked noodle. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scented oil. He wondered why Sakura had chosen this scent for him, if she’d imagined how it might smell with his body chemistry as the man in the apothecary had suggested.

He smiled to himself as he thought about it, inhaling again because the scent was growing on him now.

When Sakura returned, Madara cracked one eye open to look at her. Catching the smile on his face, she grinned at him, which made Madara’s smile widen.

“Look at you enjoying your bath,” she said.

Madara hummed his acknowledgement, closing his eyes again to picture her naked body, her wet, pink lips pressed against his.

“Here,” she said, and he opened his eyes to see her holding out the orange book for him.

“Read it to me,” he commanded.

The flush on her skin was deep enough that Madara felt another grin tugging at his lips. He imagined how much it would turn him on to hear her say those sordid words aloud. He wondered whether she was talkative in bed, assuming that she must be since she was frank about her carnal desires.

“Read it yourself,” she insisted, wiggling the book in his face.

He shook his head. “My hands are wet.”

“Then you can listen to music,” she said, turning to provide him with said music.

Madara’s wet hand lashed out to catch her before she veered to far from the tub to reach. “No,” he said. “If you won’t read it to me, then I’ll read it.”

Sakura didn’t seem convinced of this, but she passed him a small towel to dry his hands and the set the book on the edge of the tub. He didn’t miss the way her eyes dipped down to the cloudy water, in which his naked body was just barely visible.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me?” he asked. “Look, there’s so much room in here you wouldn’t even have to touch me. We could keep it very professional.”

She laughed, which was a little more surprising than the glare he was expecting from her. 

“You think we could sit next to each other completely naked and keep it very professional?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he answered in all seriousness. He was lecherous, but he had self-control.

“Okay,” she said. Madara blinked, unsure that he heard her correctly. She cocked her head to the side, surveying him with a sort of curiosity that made his scalp tingle. “I’ll be right back.”

Floored by her immediate acquiescence, Madara watched her walk out the bathroom.

///


	27. Chapter 27

Sakura returned to the bathroom wrapped in her bathrobe. A book was tucked under her arm and she had a cup of hot tea in her hand. Her hair was pulled up into a messy knot on the top of her head, and Madara stared unabashedly at her throat and neck, her smooth, marble-like skin there.

She spared no glance for him as she shrugged out of her robe and let it fall to the tile. Her cheeks were red, though Madara found his gaze drawn anywhere but her face. She stepped closer to the tub, and reflexively, Madara extended his hand to her to help her inside.

“In order to keep this very professional, I think we should re-implement our ‘no touching’ rule,” she said, ignoring his hand in favor of grabbing the edge of the tub.

A little dryly, he watched her step over him into the water and sink down against the other half of the bath-heart. Her tea, which she had placed on the edge of the tub, was just out of her reach, as was the book next to it, so Madara lifted them up and passed them to her, careful not to touch her fingers.

“Thank you,” she murmured primly and then took a gentle sip of her tea. She set it down on her side of the tub and then cracked her book open.

She ignored him entirely as she delved right into reading.

Madara sat rigidly beside her. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from her in this situation, but now that she was here and naked and right next to him, he didn’t feel quite so relaxed.

“What are you reading?” he asked her.

She turned her head to look at him, and it took monumental effort not to glance down at her chest, which was just above the line of water.

“A book about the medicinal properties of herbs and plants,” she explained, glancing back down at her book.

Madara hummed curtly, uninterested. Once her gaze left him, he allowed his to wander what he could see of her – the paleness of her chest, the silhouette of her body beneath the water’s surface.

His gaze slid up to her face, now buried in her book. The candlelight made her skin radiant and her eyes a warm glimmer. She chewed her lip and flipped the page, oblivious to Madara’s staring.

Idly, he rubbed the spine of his own book. He supposed he should at least try to read it. With a quiet sigh, Madara opened his book and began to read.

The first pages were nothing but boring exposition, descriptions of characters he cared nothing about. He flipped through toward the middle, looking for the juiciest parts. His gaze landed on the phrase ‘quivering thighs’ and he paused, pulling the book open a little wider.

“What are you doing?”

Madara glanced to Sakura, his brow raised in silent question.

“You can’t just start in the middle of the book,” she said, her eyes narrow.

“I’m skipping to the good part,” he explained, gesturing toward the dirty words on the page.

“But the good part is even better when you read the rest of it first and feel all the anticipation and tension,” she argued. “Without all that, it’s just smut.”

“It is just smut.”

“You don’t know that, you prick,” she snapped. “You haven’t even read it.”

“I’m trying to, but you interrupted me,” he said, holding back an amused grin. “I’m trying to relax and you’re over here telling me how I can and can’t read my own book.”

Her cheeks flushed with an angry scowl and she returned her attention to her book.

A little amused, Madara resumed reading his. Having never read any kind of pornographic material before, Madara found himself instantly sucked into the prose. It was a graphic depiction of a young woman giving fellatio to a man, and Madara felt heat creep into his cheeks as he read. He wondered what Sakura thought of this part when she had read it, if she had ever imagined doing this to a man.

And then of course it occurred to him that she would likely have imagined herself in this situation with Sasuke, and that thought made his head begin to ache a little bit so he tried to keep his thoughts away from Sakura, at least for the moment.

He felt himself growing hard at the erotic words on the page. It had been a long time since he’d received fellatio, and even the handjob Sakura had given him before seemed so long ago. He usually didn’t find himself sexually frustrated – not at home where there weren’t pink-haired kunoichis getting him all riled up.

Sex had seemed so simple then. When the urge struck, he found a partner to indulge him. He hardly associated it with emotion save for maybe comfort and relief, if those even counted as emotions.

But now he was practically burning with desire, and the object of his affection sat so close and so naked.

He pushed her out of his mind as he continued to read, ignoring his growing erection and the gentle waves that Sakura’s tapping toe created in the water. He swallowed a thickness in his throat, deciding that perhaps it was best to put the book down for now.

It was just too risky with Sakura beside him like this. He simultaneously loathed and loved being naked in the tub with her.

Madara snapped the book shut with a sigh and set it down on the edge of the tub.

“Too boring for you?” Sakura asked dryly.

Madara gave a noncommittal grunt, not daring to look at her. Nothing about this was relaxing.

“Maybe if you hadn’t skipped ahead you wouldn’t find it so boring.”

He was sure he’d find anything boring if the lure of Sakura’s naked body was always beside him.

“It’s not boring,” he said tersely. “It’s too exciting.”

Sakura tilted her head with confusion. Madara gestured toward his torso upon which rested his erection, just barely visible beneath the murky water’s surface.

“Oh.” She blushed, her eyes drawn down to where they really ought not be looking. She stared, perhaps not quite as brazenly as Madara would have liked, but he found some pleasure in her cautious gaze.

“This is what you were reading when I found you,” he said, resting his palm on the book’s cover. “You were just sitting out in the open, reading a dirty book.”

“Hey, listen,” she snapped, tossing her book carelessly back onto the tub’s edge. “Don’t judge me for that. It’s a perfectly reasonable thing for me to do, you know. There’s nothing wrong with a little guilty pleasure.”

Her defensiveness made him bristle.

“Sakura, I’m not judging you,” he said softly. “You know I think you’re basically perfect, right?”

She made a flustered sound, her eyes as round as saucers. It was unnervingly adorable, and Madara delighted in the way she seemed both flattered and surprised, if a little embarrassed, too.

“It’s true,” he murmured in the wake of her incredulity. “It’s a little unfair, actually. Like a starving man being teased with a juicy steak.”

“I am not a steak,” she snapped.

“No,” he agreed with a chuckle. “You certainly are not. But you can be just as tempting.”

She scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. Madara didn’t brother to refrain from letting his eyes dip down to the way the motion pressed her breasts closer together. Noticing the direction of his gaze, Sakura’s gaze turned dry.

It occurred to him then that Sakura might find him just as tempting. She read these dirty books, and pined after Sasuke. She had her own perversions, and she wasn’t immune to the same desire that pulled taut all the nerves in Madara’s body. She only needed a little coaxing, a little persuasion.

“Do you like teasing me?” he asked her, dropping his hands into the water. It warmed him instantly, and preventing him from immediately reaching out to touch her. “Do you enjoy putting me through this?”

“I’m not teasing you!”

He leaned a little closer to her, tilting his head toward hers with inexplicable affection. “Then why are you naked in the bath with me, hmm?” he demanded lowly. “Why can’t I touch you? Do you know how badly I want to?”

Her face took on an air of uncertainty, and even without his Sharingan activated, Madara sensed a fear in her – could read it plain on her face.

“This was supposed to help you relax,” she stuttered, glancing away from him.

“Suck my dick. That’ll relax me.”

He didn’t necessarily mean for it to sound so crass, though the words themselves were unerringly true. Nothing would help him relax more than Sakura’s sweet little mouth sucking him to completion.

Sakura sighed, and it made Madara feel a pang of regret that she seemed so bereaved by his words. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said them, but she wasn’t an innocent party to all this. She wouldn’t be sitting here beside him naked were that not true.

“I am such an idiot,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head so that a few tendrils of pink hair fell across her face.

“What?” Madara asked.

“I should go,” she said. “What was I thinking?”

“No,” Madara said hastily. “Don’t go. You know exactly what you were thinking.”

“I do?” she asked dryly.

He angled his body toward hers, creating little waves that lapped against Sakura’s chest. Madara ignored the urge to look down and kept his gaze focused on her eyes. Now it was his turn to feel a little compassion.

“I’m sure you feel conflicted,” he said sympathetically. “I have my reservations, too.”

Sakura scoffed at that, her gaze dipping back down to his erection, which wasn’t quite so painfully hard anymore.

“I have better self-control than my behavior suggests,” he explained. “If you say no touching, then I won’t touch you. But don’t rob me of your company, too.”

“I’m hardly good company with my nose buried in a book,” she argued.

Madara reached forward and plucked the book from the edge of the tub, tossing it carelessly to the other side of the bathroom. “Forget the book,” he said, holding his ground in the burgeoning heat of Sakura’s glare. “Just talk to me.”

Her features softened, and Madara could see confusion clouding her eyes. She looked down into her lap where her fingers twisted together in the water.

“Tell me about yourself,” Madara prompted. “What’s your life like in Konoha?”

“You want to know what life in Konoha is like?” she asked.

“Of course I do,” he said. “It’s my village.”

She shifted herself in the water, twisting to face him a little better. Sunlight poured through the frosted glass window above, gilding her from behind and making her look angelic.

“Well, most days I work long shifts at the hospital,” she began, her voice taking on a tone of nostalgia. “I wake up pretty early in the morning so I can get there before the sun comes up.”

Madara wasn’t surprised that she would spend all of her time healing other people.

“Sometimes I have missions to take,” she continued. “And I get to travel all over the world. When I come back, I always like to go to this one ramen stand. It’s Naruto’s favorite and we sort of made a tradition of going there after all our missions.”

She turned to face the window, her eyes bright and warm. “And when I’m not busy I like to hang out with Ino. We like to go out dancing or for drinks. There are always all kinds of festivals and events happening, so we like to dress up and do that stuff, too.”

Madara cocked his head to watch her. She seemed to have lost herself in reminiscing. Her face held a tender warmth as she gazed up into the sunlight.

There was something peaceable about the life she described. She had a career, her friends, missions to take and a team to take them with. Madara was envious of that sort of simplicity.

“What about your family?” he asked, curious as to what other pink-haired people were running about Fire Country.

Her gaze flicked over to his, and he was surprised to see she looked a little embarrassed. “My parents are civilians,” she confessed as if it were some shameful secret. “I’m an only child.”

Madara felt his brow twitch, unsure of why she seemed so reluctant to tell him that.

“Civilian borne, huh?” he asked, his tone neutral. “So what made you want to become a kunoichi?”

She paused, her gaze lingering on him a little vacantly while she pondered her answer to his question. She shifted her shoulders back toward him, angling her back against the curve of the marble heart. Her feet, crossed at the ankles, drifted across the dividing line in the tub. Madara didn’t look, but felt her legs settle on top of his beneath the surface of the water.

It broke the ‘no touching’ rule, but Madara supposed he could allow it.

“Look at me,” she said, and Madara complied without restraint, sweeping his gaze across her body unabashedly – what he could see of it, anyway. “I’m small and pink and girly. And god, you don’t even want to know what I was like as a kid. Whiney, love-struck, annoying… I guess I became a kunoichi because I wanted to be taken seriously. I wanted to prove to myself and everyone else that I could be something.”

This made Madara burst into a grin. “And look at you now, little kunoichi.”

She glared at him, but the heat was mitigated by the shy smile that erupted on her face.

“So you’re the best medic in the world, the Hokage’s apprentice,” he said. “You take missions, but you also work in the hospital. And it appears you take interest in some rather intense side projects. You’re a busy girl.”

“A busy woman,” she corrected. “And yes, I am. It’s not just the Sharingan, you know. I’m also interested in studying other kekkei genkai out there and whether or not it’s possible to genetically engineer certain traits. And one day I’d like to open up a mental ward for children in Konoha’s hospital if I can ever find the time and funding.”

Madara blinked, pleased by her high and noble ambitions. Was this girl really too good to be true? He supposed she must be because they clearly had so many things separating them, pushing them farther apart.

And yet… He glanced down to where her ankles were crossed over his.

“And you want to make time for a husband and family on top of that?” he asked. “You really couldn’t have picked a more prestigious husband, could you? Being Uchiha matriarch will certainly keep you busy.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re right about that,” she agreed in spite of her sarcastic tone. “That’s one reason I’ve given up on that particular goal.”

“What?” he asked with surprise. “You mean entirely?”

“It was a lofty goal, anyway,” she said dismissively.

Madara wasn’t sure he agreed, but Sakura didn’t let the topic of conversation linger there for long.

“What about you?” she asked. “What’s a typical day like for twenty-year-old Madara?”

He stretched his body until his back popped, letting his leg slide underneath Sakura’s. The friction of skin on skin – even just their legs – made warmth creep up into Madara’s chest.

“Well,” he said, adjusting himself so that he was just the tiniest bit closer to her face. “Lots of war, lots of fighting,” he explained. “There’s always the uncertainty of not knowing whether anytime I see Hashirama or my brother that it may very well be the last time I see them.”

Sakura’s face dropped, and though Madara felt no lingering pity for himself, he felt the air in the room get sucked out of the room by his morbid words.

“If it weren’t for Izuna, I’d have a very hard time convincing myself I need to go back,” he continued. “I’d much rather stay here with you.”

“You must miss him a lot,” she said softly.

He held her gaze for a moment, captivated by the genuine sympathy in her eyes. There was something so arresting about the sincerity of her emotions. That they were directed toward him made Madara’s scalp tingle. It was hard to imagine someone feeling such intimate things toward him – even Hashirama and Izuna. Whatever they might feel toward Madara certainly never seeped into their expressions like this.

“I do,” Madara admitted, though he didn’t want to linger on the subject. It tore a hole right through his heart to think of Izuna now in his unreachable place and time. That he could die at any second by Tobirama’s hand made an unquenchable rage surge up in his head.

As if sensing his darkening thoughts, Sakura changed the subject.

“What’s your favorite color?” she blurted.

He couldn’t help but grin at the way her cheeks flushed, and the longer he sat in the water, the more he wanted to pull Sakura into his lap and tuck her against his side. While he realized that it was in strict violation of the ‘no touching’ rule, he wondered if Sakura would even mind if she knew that it was for no sexual reason that he wanted to situate her against him.

“Red,” he answered, tapping his lips with his forefinger. “Though I have to admit that pink is quickly rising through the ranks.”

She giggled, at which he raised a brow. He was used to his flirtations annoying her rather than amusing her.

“My favorite color is red, too,” she said, and Madara couldn’t help but imagine what she would look like in a red dress, the Uchiha crest plastered across her back

“Oh?” he asked, letting his Sharingan begin to bleed through his charcoal eyes. While he certainly enjoyed the softened gazes she made at him when his eyes were natural, he was very much pleased with the delighted shiver that traveled her spine when his tomoe began to spin. “Is there a particular reason you’re drawn to the color?”

Sakura leaned forward across the pointed bit of marble that separated them. Her eyes were wide, unassuming as she inched her face closer, her head tilted to the side with piqued interest. Her gaze was locked with his. Madara felt his pupils dilate in the warm sun, which he knew must have made his irises nice and big for her.

She shifted even closer, pulling herself almost into his half of the tub to get a closer look at the eyes he knew she had seen up close a million times before by now.

But she seemed mesmerized by them now, and Madara couldn’t bring himself to move lest he scare her away. He could feel her puffs of breath on his face.

“I think it looks good on me,” she answered, perfectly correct in her assumption. “It looks really good on you, too.”

She reached tentative fingers up to his temple, but thought better of it and pulled her hand back toward herself.

“Must be nice to have a kekkei genkai,” she said wistfully, wilting back down into the water.

“Mine is always at your disposal,” he replied, knowing that it wasn’t exactly the same as having one herself.

“It is?” she blinked up at him, her little pink lashes fluttering in question.

“Of course,” he replied easily, already resigned to the fact that he’d be at her beck and call until she no longer allowed such a thing. Did he not get her water in the middle of the night when she asked for it? Hadn’t he submitted to her every demand so far?

But instead of feeling flattered, confusion swept across Sakura’s features. “You really like me a lot, don’t you?” she asked, her voice grave.

The pitch of her voice made Madara’s heart drop.

“I like you a lot, too,” she said before he could gather the nerve to answer. “Any sane woman would.”

Madara held his breath. He had no idea where she was going with all this, but he sensed that it wasn’t going to be good.

“But?”

She blinked. “No but,” she said with an apathetic shrug. “It just sucks.”

“How does it suck?” he demanded, feeling very much like the confession should have led to kisses and warm embraces and not her shrug of utter defeat.

“Because if you find a way to get home, then we’ll be separated,” she explained. “And if you don’t, then you’ll never get to see Izuna again. It’s a lose-lose situation for you, and that really sucks.”

Madara hadn’t considered that until now. He had no intention of living a future without Sakura in it, and if that meant dragging her back to the past with him, then so be it.

But she did have a point that he might never see Izuna again. He’d been struck by that thought approximately a thousand times since arriving here in the future, and it stung just as much every time.

“I’m sorry, Madara,” Sakura said, shifting his focus back to her glimmering eyes. “I really want you to be happy.”

He gave her a half smile. The past month he had spent here with her was easily the happiest he’d ever been. What in his war torn life could compare to this? Even if she wasn’t the perfect angel that she was, she had the power to take away his pain and darkness. For that reason alone he could never be happy anywhere but by her side.

“You never thought it was possible to go back in time,” he accused. “Do you think I should start mourning for Izuna now?”

Her spine went rigid, her shoulders curling in toward her chest. “That’s not what I said,” she murmured, looking anywhere but his face.

“I wonder what you think,” he replied. “It does seem hopeless, doesn’t it?”

“If you would just come back with me to Konoha, we could talk to Tsunade-sama,” Sakura implored. “It’s not hopeless. You can’t just give up when you haven’t tried every option.”

Madara thought about this for a moment. He supposed he had nothing to lose. If Sakura would vouch for him, her word would hold weight in her master’s heart. And maybe, if this Tsunade girl was enough like her grandfather, Madara would be able to sweet-talk her.

“I’ll go back to Konoha with you,” Madara agreed, “but with a couple of conditions.”

Sakura sat up eagerly, her eyes focused sharply on his.

“First, I want you to tell your Hokage that I did not kidnap you. You came with me willingly with no coercion on my part,” he said.

“Fine,” Sakura readily agreed. “I’ll have to confess to her about the research anyway, so she’ll believe it whether I tell her or not.”

“Second, I want you to admit that you want me.”

She gulped audibly, though her expression remained stoic. “What?”

“I get that you’re a professional woman,” he said, trying not to let his smile bleed through. “But for the sake of this deal, be a good girl and tell me how badly you really want me.”

“Madara Uchiha,” she snapped in a way that sent a violent shiver down his spine. “You really are a disgusting pervert.”

Madara rolled his eyes, tired of that old accusation. If she thought he was so disgusting, she didn’t have to be in here with him. Gingerly, but with strain, Madara slipped his hand under Sakura’s calf, which rested against his shinbone. She gasped, and he felt the berating coming on, but she said nothing.

It was with conscious effort that he didn’t let his thumb explore her silky skin, though it would only have taken the tiniest movement. He deposited her legs back on her side of the tub and crossed his arms over his chest to fix her with a rigid stare.

“You don’t think I’m disgusting,” he muttered, stretching out a little more comfortably in the tub. He relaxed his shoulders against the marble and sank down a little deeper into the water. “And you’re more of a pervert than I am.”

“Why do you want something like that from me anyway?” she demanded, crossing her own arms as if she were the one who was supposed to be angry.

He gave her a dry look. “Because you’re torturing me, Sakura,” he answered curtly. “And yes, it would make me feel better to know that you’re suffering, too.”

“I am suffering,” she hissed, folding her arms tighter around herself. “Do you think I’m holding out on you because I like depriving myself? This isn’t fun for me, either.”

“It could be, though,” Madara argued, “if you weren’t so insufferable. I could make you feel so good, you know. I could melt all that stress on you away.”

Sakura’s expression morphed into a frigid glare, but Madara could see that her iciness was already melting. There was just too much heat between them. It was inevitable.

“You’re supposed to be my patient,” she said. “Not the other way around.”

“Come on, Sakura, even you need to be taken care of sometimes,” he said. “You’re always concerned about others, aren’t you? Can’t you just let me take care of you?”

“Fucking me is not the same thing as taking care of me,” she muttered dryly.

“Well, how do you know?” Madara asked. “You’ve never been fucked before. And I’m willing to bet that it would do a world of good for you.”

She looked unimpressed with his conclusion, and Madara wondered whether this conversation was nudging her in the right direction or the wrong one.

“You know that feeling you get in your bones after you masturbate?” he asked, his voice devilishly low. “How your limbs feel heavy and your head feels light and your body is just a pool of jelly?”

Sakura shriveled back away from him, but her eyes were wide with focus, locked onto his.

“It’s the most relaxing feeling in the world, isn’t it?” he asked. “We could take turns making each other feel that way. That’s what this day is supposed to be about, right?”

“You’re trying to seduce me,” she accused.

“Is it working?”

Her eyes glimmered with uncertainty and heat and the thrill of being on the verge of something new and exciting. He could feel her anticipation thick and cloying in the air – he’d already won. Now all he had to do was wait.

“Yes,” she murmured so softly that Madara had to lean forward to hear her. “It kind of is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m ALMOST done writing this fic. It’ll be circa 45 chapters, per usual for me. Since I’m pretty much done except for the final chapter and an epilogue, I’ll probably start updating this twice a week from now on. I’m thinking Tuesdays and Fridays? Idk, it depends on how quickly I can edit the chapters.
> 
> Anyway, thank you guys so much for reading! It may or may not be obvious from the way I’ve ended this chapter, but all of your patience is soon to pay off bc we’ve got ourselves some smut full steam ahead.


	28. Chapter 28

Sakura’s eyes sparkled like sea-glass. There was something of a warning in them – a note of fear that strung lines of worry across her face. None of it did a thing to detract from the anticipation that made her fingers tremble and her lower lip get sucked between her pearly teeth.

She leaned across the marble point of the heart, her upper body glistening in the golden sunlight. She looked carved from stone and Madara thought that perhaps she was the one who deserved to have massive monuments erected in her honor.

“You’ve made women come before?” she asked a little breathlessly.

A wicked grin tugged at Madara’s lips. “Yes.”

“With your mouth?”

His grin widened and he repressed a delighted shiver when Sakura’s gaze dipped down to his lips.

“Among other things.”

She glanced back up at his eyes, her gaze heated and a little unfocused. Madara could see that her skin was covered in goosebumps and her nipples were hardened into cute little peaks that were practically begging for his attention. 

Then, she reached for his face and grabbed a fistful of his hair at the nape of his neck. Highly amused both by her roughness and her curious, wild expression, Madara leaned into her touch.

For a moment she seemed a little hazed, perhaps a little angry. Her fingers curled almost too tightly against his neck – he could feel her fingernails digging into his skin.

But then she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. Madara had only had the pleasure of kissing her a handful of times so far, and each one, while different had been a treasured memory, locked away for him to call back on one day when he was craving the feeling of a woman’s mouth against him.

There was no doubt in Madara’s mind that this kiss would replace all others. It was easy to forget that Sakura had little experience in kissing and certainly in things of a more sinful nature. Her only dalliances with sexual things so far had been with Madara himself (a fact which filled him with nothing but happiness).

But her kiss now was wild and desperate. Though her fingers stayed rooted against the back of his neck, her lips and teeth and tongue were frenzied, almost lewd. He’d never kissed anyone quite like this before, all open mouths and wandering tongues. Sakura moaned into his mouth, which made Madara’s skin explode with goosebumps to match hers.

His hands, which he had kept tactfully down at his sides, came up on their own volition, grasping for Sakura’s face to hold it against his.

It occurred to him then that Sakura’s perversions ran just as deep as his own. This was not the timid kiss of a shy, but healthily curious girl. No, this girl was horny, and possibly more of a handful than Madara had previously accounted for.

But that thought only lit him up from the inside out. His erection was throbbing again, and Sakura’s wet, wriggling body was calling for him, begging for his touch.

Before he could decide whether to move to cover her body with his own or pull her smaller frame on top of his, Sakura abruptly pulled away from him.

Her lips quivered, her eyes bright and glassy while they frantically roved his face. He could see tense resolve, heat, and a flustered but eager apprehension that made her suddenly seem so much younger to him.

Gingerly, she reached up and brushed her fingertips against his temples, pushing away the damp strands of hair there. She trailed her touch down his cheek. Madara shivered, resisting the urge to chomp down on one of those timid little fingers. Her gaze turned scalding hot when it settled back on his mouth again.

Never having been admired in such a way before, Madara’s body flooded with heat. It singed and burned like wildfire running through him. He couldn’t recall a woman ever looking at him like that. He thought any of the women back in his time would rather have plucked out their own eyes than admitted to feeling the kind of lust that was so obvious on Sakura’s features now.

They would have considered it to be unseemly, but Sakura had never been more beautiful, in Madara’s opinion.

Their faces were so close that their breath mixed between them. Sakura was frozen, her fingertips still against his face. He didn’t know quite what he expected from her now, but he was beginning to grow impatient.

To spur her on, Madara opened his mouth and sucked her pointer finger inside. Sakura gasped, her eyes fixated on her finger and his lips around it. He gave it a firm suck, delighting in the sharp gasp she released and the way the water rippled around her tightly strung body.

When she moved to pull her hand away, Madara bit down. He expected a look of admonition, but he was surprised when her cheeks burst into flame.

She yanked her hand away from his mouth but let it fall down to his chest where she pressed her palm against him.

“I want to cash in my favor,” she said huskily, her weight resting against his chest for just a second before she retracted her body back into her side of the tub.

Madara attempted to sit up, more than a little eager to show her exactly what he was capable of. If she had been worried he wouldn’t be able to make her come… well, his new life’s goal was to show her exactly how wrong that notion was.

But her hand pressed down firmly on his chest, just a hint of that monstrous strength holding him in place.

“Go wait in the bedroom for me.”

She removed her hand from his chest and bashfully tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Madara sat up as soon as she allowed it, and moved to kiss her. He pressed his lips to hers with aching tenderness – a brief glimpse into what he planned to do with her.

When he could feel that she was quivering and in desperate need of a deep breath, he finally pulled away from her.

“Don’t take too long,” he said lowly, and then climbed out of the tub.

///

Madara reclined against the headboard, his dick heavy in his curled fist. With his astute shinobi senses, he could hear Sakura still in the bathroom. The gentle, occasional lilting of water let him know she was still in the bathtub. He assumed she was primping for him, shaving and plucking and combing and whatever other things girls did in private.

Sakura didn’t need all that primping. She was already far lovelier than any woman whose company he’d found himself in before. He thought about her plump, pink lips and her lithe kunoichi’s body.

But he supposed she would also take this opportunity to collect her nerves, should they be as frayed as his were right now. Was she nervous to receive her first orgasm with a partner? Madara could scarcely remember his first time, but he certainly remembered the feeling of nervousness and anticipation. Sakura could only have been a blubbering pink mess, he imagined.

The sound of water draining from the tub floated down the hall from the bathroom. He gave himself a tight squeeze, closing his eyes to better imagine how Sakura looked as she emerged dripping from the heart-tub.

Not a second later she appeared in the bedroom doorway, stark naked. Her hair tumbled freely about her shoulders and there was a determined gleam in her eye. Madara mused that she didn’t look nervous at all. She looked rather predatory with the wolfish way she prowled over to the bed.

Strung tightly enough to snap, Madara sat up as she approached. His eyes never left hers as she crawled up onto the bed beside him.

She settled down against the mattress, her mouth drawn into a serious pout. “I want to ride your face.”

Madara held back his lecherous grin, instead opting to grab her thigh and swiftly push her back against the pillows. He moved to cover her body with his, peppering kisses to her chest and shoulders.

“Let me warm you up first,” he said, his mouth exploring all the crevices of her collarbone, all the dips and curves of her chest.

Sakura was silent during these sensual ministrations, though Madara could feel her timid fingers skittering across his naked back. Her leg came up, bending at the knee and leaning in toward his body, holding him against her.

He glanced up at her face. He felt his expression soften – it was hard to ignore the sweeping pleasure of seeing her pretty eyes on him like that. He deactivated his Sharingan, smiling when Sakura’s gaze melted on him.

Madara then felt a sudden cramp of apprehension. What if he couldn’t please her? What if he disappointed her?

Tiny fingers found their way to his temples. Quickly, before she could funnel any of her chakra into him, he pushed her hands down and pinned them to the mattress above her head.

Sakura didn’t resist him. She blinked up at him with wide eyes.

“You are so pretty,” he murmured, lowering his face to her neck. He inhaled against her warm skin, his lips reverently touching her pulse point. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he whispered, blinking so that his lashes tickled her.

She writhed underneath him, bowing her body upwards so that it pressed more intimately against his. Madara smirked into her neck, fingers dancing over her chest and stomach, down to her hip where he gripped her hard and pulled her even tighter against him. The friction against his growing erection made him hiss, which in turn made Sakura slacken the tension in her body.

Limp against the mattress, she reached for his face and pulled him into another kiss. He was surprised by her tenacity and her fervor. She kissed him in a way that no other woman ever had, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. There was an unashamed desperation to her touches. He realized that she didn’t necessarily want him, but rather she wanted sexual release. He’d been teasing her mercilessly, and all those feelings had come to a harsh peak now.

But along with that feeling of not being the one she really wanted came inadequacy, the fear of being unable to please her – that she would imagine Sasuke, that she would wish it was him here with her instead.

He couldn’t bear the thought of that.

“Sunflower,” he murmured low in her ear. Sasuke would never call her that, and Sasuke would never make her feel as good as he was about to, he thought desperately to himself.

Sakura let out a soft sigh, one that was half pleasure, half something sadder. It killed him to think that she could so easily sense that his thoughts lingered on something far darker than his actions. It wasn’t his fault that jealousy made his head act up like this.

But she didn’t use her chakra to comfort him. Instead, she gripped the sides of Madara’s face with aggressive affection, a warm but shy smile tugging at her lips.

“Madara,” she said, her voice low and smooth. The sound of his name sent a jolt of electricity through him. He pressed down with his hips, creating more heat and friction than he could bear between them.

He held perfectly still for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts and gather some patience. It would be hard not to ravage her immediately. She smelled so good and clean, and her skin was so silky and soft. Those bedroom eyes she made at him sent a flood of warmth through his chest, and it would only have taken the barest of movements to sheath himself inside of her and thrust to his heart’s content.

But this was about her pleasure, not his. One of his hands found its way down to the patch of pink curl between her legs, the other winding its way around the back of her neck. He cradled her head in his palm, angling her face in such a way that he’d be able to see every slightest change to her expression.

She had a look of sudden apprehension, which vanished almost immediately when Madara touched the pad of his finger against the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs.

Her reaction – a sharp, heady gasp – left Madara grinning a little wider. Tentatively, he brushed more soft touches against her, floored by how quickly she became wet and how eagerly she lifted her hips to give him better access.

When her gasps evolved into soft moans and pants, Madara finally allowed himself to look away from her face. Her eyes slipped shut, so he took the opportunity to gaze at her breasts, all the sinew and muscle beneath them that served to remind of her powerful status of kunoichi.

Brazenly, with little to no thought, Madara leaned down and pressed a kiss into the valley between her breasts.

Sakura’s legs spread wider for him, giving him ever better access. Her mewling whimpers encouraged him to continue pressing kisses to her chest until she’d had quite enough of it and threaded her fingers into his raven-black hair to guide his mouth to a distended nipple.

Ever eager to please her, Madara acquiesced. He let go of her head in favor of fondling her other breast, using his thumb to roll its nipple into a stiffer peak.

The culmination of sensations drove Sakura wild. Her moans elevated in pitch. Her fingers tightened in his hair. Her body wriggled and writhed; back arching, hips floating upward into his hand.

Having her so worked up beneath him had pulled any blood away from his brain down to his near painful erection, which throbbed between his body and the mattress. It took every ounce of his self-control to continue paying her all the attention she deserved instead of manically having his way with her like his body was screaming for him to do.

She was already so wet, her apprehension gone, body wresting against itself to find release somewhere.

With a smooth, swift motion, Madara grabbed her hips and twisted his body down to the mattress, simultaneously lifting her up to straddle his waist. She shrieked, digging her nails into his chest, caught off guard in her state of hazy pleasure. He grinned up at her while she found her balance.

His grin vanished when she slid her body down against his, letting her warm, wet clit drag across the length of his erection. She shuddered, and so did he. He gripped her thighs tightly enough to bruise and pulled her back up closer to his chest.

“Wrong direction, baby,” he said very gently, determined to do nothing but return her favor as she had asked. He couldn’t deny how badly his body clamored for hers, but Madara knew that his usual way with love and sex was too indelicate for a flower. Sakura needed care and patience – things that weren’t innate to him, nor to Sasuke or any other Uchiha. It must have been the reason he never wed, and the reason Sasuke was throwing away someone so special. If Madara wanted her, he’d have to soften himself for her.

The thought repulsed him for the briefest of moments before he realized that he already had softened, just by being near her. It didn’t terrify him as much as he thought. In all his childhood and adolescence, searching for power, fighting fiercely to protect those he loved, had anything in his previous life thrilled him like the time he’d spent here with Sakura? Wasn’t it worth softening a little to be able to have this feeling, this elation forever?

Sakura’s trembling fingers skittered across his jaw, breaking him out of his thoughts. She brushed the pads of her fingers gently against the growing stubble on his cheek, eyes heavy lidded. Her gaze followed the trail of her fingers across his face until she’d come to his mouth. 

She glanced up at his eyes, fingertips ghosting over his lips.

“Do you want me to shave?” he asked her with a teasing grin.

“Do you want me to?” she whispered back, giving him a grin of her own although it was hard to miss the sudden swell of anxiety in her face.

“No,” he answered quite firmly because he knew it would put her at ease and because he couldn’t bear the thought of waiting another second to pleasure her. He grabbed her ass with both hands and hoisted her tiny frame up over his chest and shoulders.

Her body tensed in his arms as he settled her over top of his face. Her hands fisted in the pillow above his head while he hooked her feet under his armpits and pushed himself up a little higher on his pillow.

The smell of her arousal was powerful and erotic and so tantalizingly close. He glanced to the patch of pink curls that was situated just above his mouth now. All Sakura had to do was rock her hips forward—

Fingers tightened near painfully in his scalp and yanked backwards. Incredulous, he glanced up to see her frigid glare.

“Turn it off,” she commanded.

“What?”

“Your Sharingan.”

Bemused, he simply acquiesced to the request. It was worth it to see the way his shift in eye color drained the chill right out of her. She melted against him, fingers loosening in his hair, hips lowering until…

She pressed herself against his mouth and released a shuddering sigh. Madara opened his mouth, a little uncertain of how to do this. He’d never been on the bottom of a sexual encounter like this one, and the only thing that prevented him from flipping her over onto her back so he could give her a proper tonguing was the fact that she seemed to want this specifically.

Sakura was an oddity, Madara decided, because even though she was a virgin (which he believed) she was quite a sexual little thing. She read those perverted books, and mentioned porn a couple of times, which he’d come to believe was some sort of sexual entertainment she watched. She had been pretty deft with her hand back at the inn, and even now she seemed to know exactly how to settle her hips against him.

His fingers found their way to her thighs, hooking over top of them to hold her against him. He found she didn’t need any help there. The moment there was contact between them, Sakura curled her hips forward, pushing herself against his mouth. Instinctively, he lashed out his tongue against her and she cried out, her thighs quivering around his head.

He pushed back on her hips. “Just hold still for a second, okay?” he said. “Don’t move.”

Obediently, Sakura stilled. Her eyes were wild and there was an endearing flush on her cheeks, but there was also an infuriatingly sexy smirk of amusement on her lips that had Madara itching to flip her over and pound into her until he found his own release.

But first order of business was to replace that smirk with something even better. He pressed a laving, open-mouthed kiss to her clit, growling when the act made Sakura dig her nails into his scalp. He could feel the muscles of her thighs tighten with restraint.

This was the part he knew how to do, although it felt a little strange to be upside down. It was glorious all the same to be so close to this perfect woman, to have her beautiful body so desperately aroused for him.

Sakura remained still, though her sighs and soft moans were enough encouragement for Madara to continue laving and kissing and sucking her with more fervor than he’d ever felt for the illicit act.

Eventually, she no longer had it in her to remain still, and Madara didn’t protest as she began to move her hips along with the rhythm of his tongue. Her eyes fell shut, and Madara stared unabashed at her, his gaze drawing down the length of her body, and the dips and curves and shadows and goosebump pebbled skin, a freckled on her ribcage, the lilting sway of her breasts as she rocked her hips.

Enthralled, he let go of her hips in favor of grabbing a breast and teasing a stiff nipple between his fingers. Sakura groaned, her hips thrusting against him a little harder. Madara reached for his erection with his free hand, which was now so painfully large he felt it might do irreparable damage to ignore it entirely.

He used one hand to explore her body, curving reverently over the swell of her other breast, her waist, her back, her ass, the back of her neck. There was no part of her that wasn’t as soft as silk and deliciously heated. Her hips continued to rock against his face. He tried to keep his tongue going at her pace, but it became increasingly difficult as Sakura’s frenzy began to heighten.

Madara began to pump himself with his hand, needing anything to ease the aching pressure that was building in his gut. He’d never been so aroused before – he’d never been at the mercy of a woman like Sakura before.

He moaned at the slight pleasure that came from his own touch, which in turn seemed to excite Sakura further. She was close – he could tell by the way her body was clenched, her movements frantic, her breath ragged.

To help her along, Madara moaned again, eyes floating upwards to find hers. He circled his tongue around her, alternating soft and hard pressure, sucking, kissing, allowing the rocking of her hips to smother him entirely. Why should he breathe if it inhibited her pleasure?

Her eyes were still closed, her pants and moans quickening, her hips more desperate and less rhythmic. Something in Madara’s brain felt like it suddenly clicked into place. He felt absolutely certain looking at her now that he was looking not just at the face of his future wife, but of his soulmate.

It wasn’t just that when she finally opened her eyes and met his gaze that she came undone immediately. It wasn’t that Madara had never seen anything so glorious as Sakura riding out the violent waves of her orgasm against his mouth, her fingers tightened possessively in the length of his hair.

It was the fact that her pleasure cracked the plate of armor that shielded his heart. He had yearned to make her feel this good, to show her this pleasure – and now she had it. She had given something to him, something that was so important to her, and he would hold it close.

And never let go. She wasn’t Sasuke’s any longer.

Sakura’s trembling, limp body collapsed. Madara, still fully aroused but relentlessly happy, slid her down to settle her against his side. He tucked her under his arm, and she moved obediently with his gentle guidance.

He could feel her racing heartbeat against his ribs, her naked breasts pressed against his side. She melted her entire body against his, tilting her chin up to rest on his chest and look at his face.

Even after what they’d just done, it was the sight of her then that made his heart skip a beat. She grinned at him with the warm glow of complete satisfaction, her gaze dripping with tenderness and affection. The simmering waver in her malachite eyes drew a smile from him, and he reached up to smooth her tousled hair away from her face so he could see it better.

Her lazy grin widened and she reached up with reverent fingers to touch his jaw, which was still slick with the aftermath of her orgasm.

His heart constricted painfully against the sudden urge to tell her that he loved her. He wasn’t even sure that it was true, and he knew that now wasn’t the right moment to say such a thing anyway. The thought flittered across his mind nonetheless, and left him feeling a sharp tingle in his spine.

Her fingers drifted up to his temple and he felt a cool rush of chakra invade his head.

“You’re really happy,” she said, not a question, just her casual observation. Still, she grinned as she said it – hadn’t stopped grinning, hadn’t come down from her high yet. “That’s why you couldn’t help but activate your Sharingan again.”

Confused, Madara blinked and realized that at some point he had inadvertently activated his Sharingan. It didn’t surprise him, but he hoped Sakura wouldn’t be angry with him for it.

She seemed the opposite of angry as she retracted her arm and settled comfortably against his side. Her cheek pressed against his chest and her hand curled up in a little fist over his heart as if staking her claim on it. Or perhaps he only imagined that.

Madara hoped now that she’d seen the extent of his affection for her that they could drop the pretense between them. He longed to be able to touch her when he wanted, to thread his fingers through hers the next time they walked to the market square, and curl his body around hers at night when they fell asleep. There was no use in pretending that anything about their relationship was platonic.

For that reason alone, Madara did not pressure her to in any way touch his throbbing erection, which lay vulnerable against his stomach.

She made no effort of her own to come to his aide, which suited Madara just fine. He found just as much contentedness in the way she settled so warmly against his side, her eyes fluttering shut. Her body was limp and heavy and glowing, seeking sleep in the comfort his body provided her.

“How was it?” he asked her, taking advantage of those fleeting few moments before sleep took her while pleasure still fogged her brain.

“Fucking amazing,” she slurred, pulling herself up just enough to press a languid, sleepy kiss to his lips. She smiled against his mouth, and Madara felt like a moth drawn to her flame, his eyes following her as she sank back down into the pocket of warmth at his side.

All felt right with Sakura in his arms, finally where she belonged. It made his heart burst open with joy that she was so content to be there, and through all the excitement of making her come, and holding her against him, and loving her, he found it hard to join Sakura as she drifted off into a comfortable nap.

He was just too happy.

///


	29. Chapter 29

It turned out to be a relaxing day for Madara after all. They’d spent the better part of the day twined in each other’s arm, dozing off and waking up for slow, soft kisses before nodding off again.

By the time the sun had lowered deep in the sky, Madara had woken up with a fiercely growling stomach. Unable to fall back asleep, he traced soft lines in Sakura’s back as she napped, marveling at the smooth, velvet texture of her skin. She stretched and mewled beneath him, her body remolding itself to his as she settled back against him.

He didn’t want to wake her just yet so he gazed through the balcony doors out at the sky. Soft clouds rolled by, illuminated gold and pink by the lowering sun. His fingers drifted to her hair, combing through the candy-pink strands.

When Sakura finally roused, her sleep-mussed hair tickling his bare chest as she lifted her head, she let out a long, contented hum. She rubbed sleepily at her eyes, nuzzling her face into the side of his neck.

It lit up every nerve in Madara’s body at once to have her lips on his neck like that. He could hardly forget that his erection had gone entirely unattended earlier, so he pushed back on her shoulder and pressed a chaste, warm kiss to her mouth. He needed to cool his blood.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, thumbing her lower lip.

She nodded, eyes glittering. “Are you going to make me something to eat?”

“Anything you want,” he murmured, pressing another chaste kiss to her forehead.

She pulled back, her fingers lingering on his neck. Her gaze was warm and affectionate, but there was also something a little patronizing there. He could swear that somewhere in the glimmer of her eye was amusement at his expense.

“Scrambled eggs?” she asked.

He nodded and smiled and kissed her again, and then again just because he could. “Sure,” he agreed. “You stay right here.”

Sakura giggled as he left the bedroom, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was laughing at him.

Knowing that the train of thought would lead him somewhere dark, Madara stopped in the bathroom to wash up and try to clear his head. He felt hazy behind a fog of sleepy pleasure, like he was in a beautiful dream that might easily turn into a nightmare if he let it.

He pointedly ignored the cat that jumped up on the bathroom counter while he washed his face and brushed his teeth.

By the time he’d made it into the kitchen, he felt refreshed and awake. Thinking with a clearer head now, he imagined what he might say to Sakura when he returned to her. He was growing more sure by the second that he simply could not live without her, which meant he needed to convince her to stay with him.

He needed to woo her. Or court her. Or whatever it was. He frowned as he collected a carton of eggs and some butter from the cold box. He couldn’t help but think of his mother – the only woman he knew of to ask for this kind of advice. How was he supposed to have any clue what women wanted?

Perhaps he could just try telling her the truth. While he wasn’t certain that she was as over Sasuke as she claimed, he was sure that Sakura probably didn’t hold a position in her future open for Madara. This was just some sort of weird cosmic fluke, after all. She had an entire life back in Konoha that he knew nothing about.

He thought about these things while he finagled with the unfamiliar stove and the puzzling containers everything seemed to be stored in. If romancing her was enough, he was set. He already knew she wasn’t immune to his charms and flirtations.

Except it probably wasn’t enough. Sakura was smart and responsible. She would want a secure future, something Madara could never give her because he couldn’t ever be sure that he wouldn’t get sucked back into the past again at any random time.

These thoughts made his head begin to ache as he arranged a tray with coffee and tea and a few pastries Sakura had picked up in the market. The cloud of darkness descended on him, settling in the cracks of his brain with an unusual sort of heaviness.

Ignoring it, he walked out into the yard and plucked a handful of wildflowers from the garden. He remembered a time when Hashirama had encouraged him to help deliver an entire houseful of flowers to a barmaid he’d fancied back when they were still young teenagers. It had taken days to collect enough flowers, and hours to lug them to the girl’s house while she was away working.

Madara hadn’t seen the point of it, though the barmaid couldn’t have been more ecstatic. Hashirama had been ecstatic, too, when he’d spent the remainder of the year canoodling with her until she’d been married off to some feudal lord up north.

Since Hashirama’s charm seemed to work so well, Madara figured he’d take a page, albeit a much smaller one, out of his book.

He set the flowers in a cup of water and added it to the tray before plating Sakura’s eggs and adding them, too. He carried the tray out into the hall, taking note of the open balcony doors in the bedroom.

Of course he still hadn’t thought of what to say to her, and now his mind raced as he stepped onto the balcony. He flailed for something appropriate but romantic, knowing that seeing her face was likely to distract him if he allowed it.

Her back was turned to him. She stood, silky robe and soft hair billowing behind her in the warm breeze.

“Hungry?” he asked her, setting the tray down beside the chaise.

When she made no sound in response, no movement of acknowledgement, Madara glanced up at her again. It was then that he noticed something strange about the sky. It glowed warmly in the early evening’s sun, but something about it seemed entirely wrong.

Or right, maybe, because looking up at it suddenly made Madara feel very much at home. There was something familiar about the faint smattering of stars that prickled between the sparse clouds. It was as if he were looking into his own sky instead of the one here that he’d not become so used to yet.

Assuming that Sakura was feeling unsettled by this oddity, he moved to stand beside her and glance at her face.

He nearly choked at the sight of her eyes, peeled wide open and rolled into the back of her head. Only the whites of her eyes visible, and laced with veins of sharp red, Madara grabbed onto her shoulders with alarm.

“Sakura?” he asked, shaking her lightly to break her out of it. Whatever it was.

She didn’t budge, though his shaking caused her to sway on her feet. Panic burgeoned in Madara’s chest. Before he could come to the realization that he had no idea what to do, the sky began to darken quickly and dramatically.

Still holding Sakura’s shoulders, he whirled to face the sun and felt an icy fist seize his heart at the sight of a giant, full moon hanging in the sky. It dwarfed the sun, taking up nearly half of the sky. Madara winced, blinded by it’s silvery light before the light faded into a cool, dim glow.

Nervously, he clung onto Sakura, guiding her back toward the chaise. When her legs hit the edge, he pushed her down to sit just as the moon dipped between the earth and the sun.

Sunlight vanished. Nothing but the cool glow of the moon remained – a strange and unsettling light that made Madara’s stomach feel queasy.

“Sakura,” he said again, shaking her more frantically. She didn’t respond.

The moon continued to dip down to the horizon, sliding, slipping quickly down the remaining length of sky. Feeling dizzy as he watched its unnatural speed, Madara watched in horror and fascination as the giant moon dipped completely below the earth, revealing the very normal looking sun behind it.

Madara held his breath, waiting to see if this was all some sort of illusion or part of something much bigger that was happening. His gaze drifted back to Sakura and her blank face sent another stab of fear through his heart.

He said her name again, gripping her arms with bruising force. The world was eerily silent while he waited. No birds chirped, no breeze swept clouds across the sky. The world was frozen.

Until Sakura blinked, an achingly slow fan of her lashes. When her eyes opened again, her pupils and irises were visible, but her eyes were wide, unfocused, and disturbingly blank.

She stood up stared forward into the sun, her pupils locked onto it even as Madara shook her.

“Sakura, snap out of it,” he said, desperately confused and filled with worry.

He moved between her and the sun, trying to cut off the spell that somehow had her bound to it. It did not break, however, at the loss of contact. Sakura only fell limp against him, her eyes still wide and vacant.

It was then that he realized how incredibly fast the beat of her heart was. It far exceeded the typical racing heart she often produced in him and instead sped at an unnatural, lethal pace.

Alarmed, and worried that he had no other way of helping her, Madara finally conceded to the one thing he could think to do.

He lowered the both of them down to the chaise, grabbed Sakura’s face between his hands, and used his thumbs to hold open her trembling eyelids. His tomoe began to spin as he narrowed his eyes at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, though he hoped she’d understand why he was about to break his promise to her.

For a moment, he thought it might not work. But then, Sakura’s eyes fluttered shut. Her body slumped forward, and Madara caught it, grateful that his genjutsu had not only worked but immediately calmed her racing heart.

Gently, he rested her back against the chaise. Only the slow rise and fall of her chest prevented him from succumbing to panic.

///

Madara paced the balcony, wondering what he would do if Sakura didn’t wake up soon. He had no idea how to take care of her, and he didn’t even know who could. His first thought was to take her back to Konoha. That was where her mentor was, where everyone who loved her was. If there was anyone that would not only be able to help her, but be desperate to, it was her own friends and family back home.

But Konoha was still a long way away, and he had no idea if she would succumb to whatever was happening to her before he could get her back there.

He sighed, feeling the cloud of darkness thickening and swelling in his head. The sky was getting dark now, the sun just below the horizon. The moon was nowhere to be seen, which was a small comfort for Madara now.

Gingerly, Madara lifted Sakura into his arms, mindful of her head, and carried her back into the bedroom. He set her against the pillows, feeling all at once helpless and afraid and foolish. He couldn’t help but think this was his fault somehow. The moon had done this to her, and he felt a sort of responsibility for it that made his heart feel heavy in his chest.

He laid his head down on Sakura’s chest, comforting himself with the sound of her heartbeat. It was normal and strong and healthy. Her breath made her chest rise and fall while Madara clung to her, breathing in her clean, cucumber scent. At least she felt very much alive beneath him – still warm and soft.

But it left a horrid ache in his heart that she would not wake up, and he could only hope that whatever this was would run its course and be over.

///

Madara scarcely slept that night. It was no surprise after napping all day, but even so it was hard to pretend he wasn’t devastated by Sakura’s condition. He still clung to her – face against her chest, hands on her waist.

If she didn’t wake by the morning, he’d head straight for Konoha. It was the only real option he had. There was nowhere else to go.

He pondered whether to just release her from the genjutsu, but he didn’t want to risk her heart speeding up like that again. If she didn’t wake up from it on her own…

A stab of anger ripped through him at the moon who had done nothing but cause him trouble. Wasn’t it enough that it had to mess with his head? Why did it have to mess with Sakura’s too?

This was his fault, he thought as sorrow and dread sank down into his stomach. Darkness dripped through his skull, thick and syrupy. It stung and burned and swelled, but maybe he deserved it this time.

Cool fingers swept through his hair. They tenderly brushed through the tangled strands, and Madara sighed, relaxed by the feeling.

Then he froze.

“Sakura?”

He lifted his head to find her eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. Madara held his breath, then released a sigh of relief when her gaze flicked down to him. She looked frightened, white as a ghost. There was a crease of worry between her brow, and her lower lip trembled as if she might cry.

Madara’s hands found their way to her face, angling it to and fro so he could check for injury. “Sakura, are you okay?” he asked, his heart stuttering in his chest. “What happened to you?”

She began to sit up, so Madara helped her, his hands soft and gentle as if she were still fragile. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her, though he knew she needed room to breathe.

“We have to go back to Konoha,” she said, flinging her legs over the edge of the bed to stand up. Madara stopped her with an arm wrapped around her waist.

“Hold on a second,” he demanded, pulling her back down to the mattress. “Are you alright? What happened?”

She didn’t protest when Madara held her still. She looked up at him with wide, wavering eyes that penetrated right through to Madara’s soul. Her fingers came up to his chest, trembling, worried. “Madara,” she said softly, with anguish. Tears began to pool in her eyes, and Madara felt another icy stab of fear go through his heart.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, thumbing away a stray tear.

“I thought it was a dream,” she explained, her voice shaking. “I saw… I think I had a vision. I don’t know. I think Konoha is in danger.”

“Did you see the moon?” he asked.

She took in an unsteady breath, her fingernails digging little crescents into his chest. Her chin tilted in an affirmative nod. “And Sasuke,” she said in a worried whisper. “I think he’s going to attack Konoha.”

///

That was all the information Madara was able to get from Sakura about her vision. She had quickly shoved him away and begun to haphazardly pack up their things, frantically flying about the cottage. She wouldn’t even speak to Madara as he bombarded her with questions about her vision, the moon, whatever spell she had been under that kept her in that trance-like state.

He was more than relieved that she seemed to be okay, but now there were a million other things to worry about. Going to Konoha meant facing the Senju Hokage – Hashirama’s granddaughter. It meant confronting the wrongs he had done (or would do – it all still confused him greatly).

It also meant facing Sasuke, apparently. Sakura didn’t seem to consider that perhaps her vision had only been a dream, and since Madara could glean nothing from her silence, his only choice was to believe her.

Not even ten minutes after she’d woken up, they were on the road back to Konoha, packs overstuffed and slung over their backs.

Madara eyed Sakura as they ran, noting the deep lines of worry on her face. He was frustrated with her for her silence and refusal to answer his questions, but he couldn’t help but feel sympathetic to her. He wanted to find some way to comfort her, but he didn’t even know what was wrong.

“Why would Sasuke attack Konoha?” he asked her, not expecting a response.

Sakura didn’t look at him. “I don’t know.”

“How do you know he’s going to attack?” he pressed, encouraged that she at least spoke to him this time. “Did you see it in your vision?”

“It’s just a feeling,” she answered, her voice terse and unfriendly. A little stung, Madara looked up at the sky. The morning sun hadn’t yet risen and a partial moon hung innocently in the sky. Before he forgot, Madara pulled his notebook out of his pocket and jotted down the moon phase and date.

They continued to travel in silence, the air between them a little uncomfortable. Madara was dying to know what Sakura had seen in her vision, if Sasuke had been the only one she saw. Was there some reason for her silence on the matter? He couldn’t make sense of her withdrawal from him, and he hated to admit that it made the pull of darkness in his head even worse.

But he didn’t want to burden her with his problems now – not while she still seemed so perturbed. Instead, he matched her pace, which he noted was far quicker than usual. He wasn’t exactly sure how far from Konoha they were, but he knew that they must have been making good time.

Eventually, the sun bloomed up over the horizon and the moon dipped back down below the earth. Clouds rolled over the sky, creating giant, looming shadows over them from time to time.

They did not stop to eat, though Sakura pulled a couple of food pills out of her pack for them both once the sun had hit its highest peak in the sky.

They didn’t stop to rest until well after the sun had set again and darkness poured through the woods.

///

When they finally stopped for the night, it was only because Madara forced them to. Sakura swayed on her feet, and he couldn’t be sure that there weren’t any lingering effects of whatever had happened to her earlier. She looked fatigued with dark shadows under her eyes, and Madara didn’t want her to push herself any farther than she already had.

Fortunately, she agreed to stop, although it was begrudgingly. Madara set up the tent quickly and unfurled Sakura’s bedroll for her inside. It was far too late in the evening to be starting a fire and winding down. He was under no assumption that Sakura was willing to do anything but what was absolutely crucial until they got back to Konoha.

“Come on, Sakura,” he said to her, coaxing her away from the line of trees where she stood, staring out into the wood. “You need to rest.

Sakura whirled to face him as if startled to learn that he was there. He held the tent flap open for her expectantly, activating his Sharingan so he could see her better in the dark. Her gaze scoured over him, eyes piercing. Then her expression softened, and she approached him with a curious tilt in her head.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, her voice tender, eyes focused intently on his. She’d been ignoring him for the better part of the day so it had been easy for him to forget how absolutely stunning her gaze could be.

Had the situation been different, he might have told her about the pounding darkness in his head and the pressure it put against his skull.

“I’m fine, baby. Just come lie down.”

Amusement flickered across her face. She lifted her fingers up to his temple, and he braced himself for the soothing rush of her chakra but she merely brushed away a tendril of his hair and tucked it behind his ear.

“You call me baby now?” she asked with a chuckle.

It delighted him to hear her laugh, even if it was at his expense.

“Is that okay?”

Her eyes dipped down to his chest. She lifted her hands up and touched his chest with reverence, fingers skittering over all the dips and curves of his muscles. She nodded and sucked her lower lip between her teeth.

Madara reached for her arms, snaking his hands around her wrists and tugging her closer to the tent. “Come on,” he urged.

Sakura yanked back on him, her fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. A little caught off guard by her vehemence, Madara turned back to face her. Her eyes were absurdly bright, lit with some fire that Madara knew nothing about. She released his shirt, latched her hands around the back of his neck, and pulled him down into a hard kiss.

Surprised, Madara stood motionless for a moment before he thought to kiss her back. Her skin felt cold and clammy as he continued to back her toward the tent even as he kissed her.

“Sakura,” he breathed once they had broken apart. He wished they were back at the cottage. They hadn’t been there long, but it had already started to feel like home to him. “You’re freaking me out.”

With a heavy sigh, Sakura entered the tent, tugging on Madara’s hand. He followed her inside and dropped his pack. While Sakura crawled into her bedroll, he unfurled his own.

“No,” Sakura said, seeing him lay his out beside hers.

“What?” he asked, bemused.

“You’d rather sleep with me, wouldn’t you?”

“Always,” he answered instinctively. He could think of absolutely no better way to fall asleep every night. “I just thought that—”

She cut him off, grabbing his hand and pulling him down to her bedroll. “You have a headache, don’t you?” she accused, moving over to allow room for Madara beside her.

He sidled obediently into the bedroll, positioning his arm behind Sakura’s head so that she could lie comfortably against him. She flipped over onto her stomach, her side pressed warmly against his. Her hands came up to his temples, cool chakra flowing the moment her skin touched his.

Madara sighed with relief as the pressure began to dissipate. “I didn’t want to bother you with it,” he said.

“You’re my patient, Madara,” she explained. “It’s never a bother.”

The ache in his head vanished. It was soothed even quicker this time – Sakura was getting better at it. With a surge of affection for her and relief that she was okay, Madara pulled one hand down from his temple and kissed its palm. He then pressed it to his chest, holding it over his beating heart.

“You scared the shit out of me today,” he said.

Sakura nodded in understanding. “That’s what made your head hurt,” she said. He didn’t bother to explain that his head had begun to hurt before that.

“It had something to do with the moon, didn’t it?” he asked, searching her face for the answers she was hiding from him. “Tell me what happened to you earlier. Please.”

She shook her head, eyes swimming with tears. “I don’t want you to think I’m stupid.”

“Do you remember being on the balcony at all?” he asked her, ready to get to the bottom of all of this.

Her head shook again. “I remember falling asleep in the bed, and that’s where I woke up,” she said.

Madara stiffened. “So you don’t remember me going to make you something to eat?” he asked. “You don’t remember going out to the balcony?”

“Did we eat on the balcony?” she asked, perplexed.

Frustrated, Madara sat up a little bit, pulling Sakura up with him. “No, because you were in a weird trance and the moon was doing something to you.”

Sakura’s face scrunched into a peach pit of worry. Her hand flew to her chest, covering her heart. He felt the tide of chakra she flushed through her body, checking for what, Madara didn’t know.

Feeling another stab of guilt for his part in whatever had happened to her, Madara put his hand to her cheek and smoothed over the stress lines on her face. “I’m so sorry, Sakura,” he said. “This is my fault, isn’t it? Whatever curse the moon has put on me has spread to you.”

Sakura cupped his hand in hers, holding it against his face. “No,” she said, her voice trembling. “That’s not it. I saw a lot of things. I don’t know what was real and what wasn’t. Some seemed like the future, and some seemed like the past. That’s why I thought it was just a stupid dream at first.”

Eager to hear more about her vision, ecstatic that she was finally opening up, Madara gripped her a little tighter.

“I saw a battle,” she explained. “You and Izuna were there. I couldn’t tell who you were fighting, but the odds weren’t in your favor. I looked away because I couldn’t bear to watch and when I turned around, I was looking at Konoha from the cliff side where I met you.”

Her expression darkened. Madara let go of her face in favor of threading his fingers through hers. She squeezed tight, as if the action could draw the soothing right out of him.

“Someone was attacking the village,” she continued. “At first I thought it was you. I thought it was in the past – well, the past for me, and I was watching you… But I climbed closer. I was going to try to stop you, but when I got down to the gate, I saw that it was Sasuke. Not you.”

Madara felt his heart pounding. Sakura didn’t seem to hold those lost actions of his against him, but he couldn’t imagine what was going through her head as she looked down at who she thought him destroying her home.

“I tried to reason with him,” she said, “but he wouldn’t listen. He tried to kill me. Or, he did kill me. I’m not sure.”

His heart clenched in his chest. He knew Sasuke’s proclivity to kill her anyway. And now they were heading straight for him. If it was a vision of the future, he didn’t want Sakura anywhere near Konoha.

“But then everything went dark,” she continued. “And I— Madara, please stop looking at me like that.”

He blinked. “Like what?”

Her eyes lowered to his chest, too bashful to meet his gaze. Their fingers were still twined together, but Sakura loosened her grip on him.

“Like you… love me.”

“But I do,” he whispered because that seemed like the kind of thing she didn’t want to hear right now, and maybe if he said it softly it wouldn’t hurt her as much. She wasn’t ready to hear it yet, but Madara couldn’t lie to her.

She began to cry, and Madara held onto her hand, not sure that trying anything more might make her feel worse.

“That’s impossible,” she said through her tears, but Madara only shook his head.

“I know it’s only been a short time, but—”

“Too short,” she agreed emphatically, cutting him off. “But for you it’s different, isn’t it? I’ve been studying your head, Madara. I’ve learned a lot about you. About your clan and your kekkei genkai.”

She reached for her pack on the far side of the tent, keeping Madara’s hand locked in her own even as she stretched to reach it. She pulled out her notebook from inside with one hand and set it between them.

Opening it up, she fanned through the pages, and turned it around so Madara could read. “One of the first things I noticed is the increase in regular brain activity when you feel emotions,” she began, her tears drying a little. “It’s easily ten times the activity in a normal brain for the same emotions. Everything you feel is so much more amplified because of this.”

She flipped over to a page that charted the spikes in his brain activity, and graphs labeled with different emotions he could remember feeling when they were in the cottage.

“You felt a lot of affection for me,” she said. “I don’t mean to sound conceited, but I don’t blame you. You came from a place where all you’d known was war and death, and of course we just had a… honeymoon of sorts, so naturally you’d be feeling…”

Madara swallowed, feeling as if his heart was being slowly torn from his chest. He could almost feel each individual heartstring snapping as he realized that Sakura was rejecting him.

“It’s your curse, Madara, but it can be a blessing, too,” she said.

Her eyes were down on the pages of her notebook, but when she glanced up at his face and saw his somber expression, her brow furrowed. “Madara,” she said softly, “What’s wrong?” Her hands came up to his temple, dropping his hand back into his lap.

Of course there was more darkness in his head. He was practically swimming in it now, but he just ignored it. He needed to focus on this conversation.

“How is it a blessing?” he demanded, pushing her hands away.

She looked a little hurt, which made him wince with guilt. “You were subjected to so much pain and horror,” she said. “All of the Uchiha were. All you’ve known is war and death. But trauma and horror aren’t the only emotions that are connected to the nerves in your eye. All your emotions are.”

Madara’s eyes widened as the implication of what she was saying dawned on him.

“Pain and death always awakened the Sharingan in the past because those were the emotions the Uchiha clan felt the strongest,” she continued. “It was why Tobirama thought you were a clan of hatemongers. But I think that if you were to feel another emotion just as strongly, it might awaken your Mangekyou.”

His hands shook as she delivered this new, exciting, promising, too-good-to-be-true information. He pulled them behind his back, avoiding her gaze, his thoughts racing.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know that was a bit much to drop on you at once, but I have something else to tell you.”

His eyes flicked up to hers. Her expression was serious and a little nervous.

“I think I met your brother.”

///


	30. Chapter 30

“You met my brother?”

Madara’s skin felt cold. Of course this was the moon’s doing. How else could Sakura have a vision of his brother? He felt sick all of a sudden.

Sakura shivered and swayed to one side. Remembering how exhausted she was, Madara gently reached for her arm and pulled them both back down into the bedroll.

“I thought… I thought after Sasuke, umm, killed me,” she began, and Madara felt another swoosh of darkness in his head. “It had all been a nightmare, and I woke up. Except when I woke up, I was on the cliff side again. It felt so real. I was asleep under a tree and it was all so vivid, exactly as it’s supposed to feel.”

She shivered again and Madara tucked her closer against his side.

“Except the sky was different,” she said. “I couldn’t explain it. And then… then I saw Izuna standing at the cliff’s edge.”

Madara stiffened and then Sakura did too. “I thought I’d been transported to the past,” she said softly. “To your time. It just all felt like I was actually there. Not a dream. I could feel the wind and I could smell sulfur faintly. It was cold. When Izuna saw me he looked really confused.”

A faint burbling of hysteria tickled his throat. He remembered exactly how confused he’d been when he’d met Sakura, exactly how wrong all his assumptions about her were.

“He took off his cloak and gave it to me and then he asked me if I had seen you,” she said. “He asked a lot of questions, actually,” she continued dryly. “He wanted to know who I was and what I was doing there. He was really worried about you. He kept asking if I was a Senju and if I did something to you.”

It sounded so much like his brother’s behavior that Madara doubted this was something Sakura could have conjured up on her own, dream or not. She’d never met Izuna and knew nothing about him.

And so many parts of what she said tugged at his emotions, all still so raw. Izuna had been looking for him, and his first instinct had been to give Sakura his cloak. Madara knew himself well enough to realize that jealousy wasn’t what made that bring a sour taste to his mouth, even though he was quite prone to that feeling.

If Izuna had believed her to be a Senju or have something to do with Madara’s disappearance, then why had he extended such a kindness to her? There was no denying that she was a kunoichi. What if she had been a Senju?

“What did you tell him?” he asked her.

“Well, I threw his cloak back in his face,” she said, and Madara was amused to hear embarrassment in her voice. “He was acting like a pompous jerk. I didn’t like the way he was talking about the Senjus.”

Madara wanted to laugh at that, but he was in no mood. Sakura’s head was heavy against his chest, but it was a comforting weight – especially after all that had transpired. He absently reached up and began running his fingers through her hair, and Madara felt a shiver roll down Sakura’s spine.

“Did you tell him that I was okay?” Madara asked. “Did you explain everything to him?”

“I didn’t know what to say,” she explained. He wished he could see her face from his angle. He could see that her eyes were closed, that her pink lashes rested heavily on her cheeks. “I mean where would I even start? I didn’t know what information was safe to give away, and I knew that he wasn’t going to trust me anyway. You didn’t.”

Of course he hadn’t trusted her, and it was smart of Izuna not to trust her either. It wasn’t until all this business with the moon and Sakura’s suspiciously ideal set of skills that Madara began to believe that all this was a little more than a cosmic coincidence. Believing that Sakura was his fate was made it easy to trust her.

They way she curled against him with complete vulnerability made him trust her.

“I warned him to stay away from Tobirama,” she said after silence had settled around them. “I don’t know if he’ll heed my advice.”

Madara squeezed her tightly against him and kissed the top of her head. “I hope he does,” he replied.

“It confused him, I think,” she said. “He thought I was a Senju, so I guess he didn’t understand why I would warn him to stay away from one.”

She was silent for another beat. She rubbed her thumb gently across one of his ribs – the only indication that she hadn’t yet fallen asleep before she spoke again.

“We heard an explosion,” she whispered, her voice soft but Madara could feel it reverberating through both his chest and hers. “Izuna wanted to go toward it, but he wanted me to come, too. He grabbed me and tried to take me with him, but I—”

Madara’s fingers froze in her hair.

“Madara, I saw the moon,” she said, and he didn’t even need to hear the rest. It was enough to confirm his suspicions. “It was so big in the sky it took over the sun and all the clouds, the whole sky. I couldn’t stop looking at it. Izuna was trying to pull me along, but I just couldn’t look away.”

“Could he see it, too?” Madara asked, perplexed.

Sakura’s thumb ceased its movements on his chest. “I don’t know,” she said. “We heard another explosion, and then the moon… dripped out of the sky and everything went black.”

Madara breathed in slowly, his thoughts racing over everything that was happening.

“When I woke up, I was in bed with you,” she said, her voice a little calmer now. “I remembered… what we did yesterday, and falling asleep with you. I thought it had just been a really strange, vivid dream. You were afraid – I could feel it when I woke up, and it felt like I had slept for days. I thought I must have just been really zonked out and you couldn’t wake me up.”

“It couldn’t have been a dream,” Madara said, using a hand on the small of her back to press her even tighter against him. “The moon gave you a vision.”

“Yeah,” Sakura agreed, though she sounded skeptical. “I just have an uneasy feeling. I can’t stop picturing Sasuke attacking Konoha. He was so wild. I’d never seen him like that.”

Madara closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about Sasuke or Konoha right now. All he could think about was Sakura wrapped in his brother’s cloak. Was Izuna okay now? Had Sakura’s vision been something real or some kind of illusion? The thought of having Sakura and Izuna in the same place at the same time made his heart feel like it would explode. What he wouldn’t give to have them both in his life…

Thinking about this only made more darkness pull into Madara’s head. He still had absolutely no way of getting back to Izuna, and even if he figured it out, he’d still have to convince Sakura to come with him.

And after foolishly confessing his love for her, he wasn’t sure that would be so easy a task anymore. It stung him that she did not feel the same way, and that somehow made holding her in his arms almost painful.

But then Sakura shifted herself upwards so that she was closer to her face. She exhaled softly, and Madara opened his eyes to look at her. Her eyes were warm and concerned and so beautiful that hurt to look at them and know he’d have to give her up one day.

“Will you help me?” she asked, reaching up to smooth her fingers over his brow. There was so much tenderness in the gesture that it made nausea pool in Madara’s gut. It had been far too long since he’d fought someone, since he’d battled or warred or killed anything. All of these tender touches and soft kisses were too much, and still not enough. He suddenly craved blood, needed an outlet for all his frustrations.

As if she could understand those thoughts, Sakura retracted her hand, her face burning with shame. Quickly, foolishly, Madara reached for her hand and pressed it against his heart.

“I will help you do anything,” he said, meaning every word. “I’ll be at your side until you no longer want me there.”

In spite of the somber atmosphere in the tent, Sakura broke into a wide grin that sent Madara’s heart soaring. He was sure Sakura could feel how hard his heartbeats pounded in his chest beneath her palm.

“You are something special, Mada-kun,” she tittered. All of it – her smile, her giggle, the suffix on his name – made his whole body light up. “I wished I deserved that kind of devotion.”

She pressed her face into his neck, her smile still appling her cheeks. Madara let out a breathy sigh, heat flooding his body with the one simple gesture. She kissed his neck, the brush of her lips so feather light it raised goosebumps on his skin, which made Sakura giggle again.

“Being with you is the most alive I’ve ever felt,” she confessed. “I know you belong with your brother, but I wish you could stay here with me.”

Madara frowned. “Did you change your mind?” he asked. “You think it’s possible to make it back to my own time?”

He felt her give a tiny nod. “You don’t understand, Madara. That vision felt so real,” she explained. “It was like I was actually there with him. I do think it’s possible, and I do think the moon has something to do with this. It feels like we’re missing a lot of information, but doesn’t it feel like we’re being manipulated by some kind of force?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I don’t understand.”

Sakura sighed and settled more warmly against him, moving her forehead to his neck.

“Do you think we can stop Sasuke?” she asked.

He hated thinking about Sasuke. Sasuke had his Mangekyou already, and Madara had no idea if he’d be able to best him. He’d never even had a chance to gauge his fighting skills.

“I don’t know,” he said. “How can we even be sure that he’ll attack Konoha?”

Sakura sighed again. “I hope I’m wrong,” she said. “I just have a really bad feelings about all this.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. “It’ll be alright.”

But Madara wasn’t sure he believed that. He couldn’t stop remembering the vision he’d had back in the cave.

He couldn’t get the image of Sasuke slitting Sakura’s throat out of his head.

///

Sakura clung desperately to him through the night. He thought that might have made it easier for him to sleep, but it only made him feel more restless. Her body twitched every now and then – he trailed his fingers up and down her spine to soothe her.

When they woke and departed again, Sakura was back to being quiet and reserved. Madara couldn’t help but echo those feelings. The only reason he was letting Sakura get anywhere near Konoha was that he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop her. He could only hope that she was wrong, that they wouldn’t encounter Sasuke there.

Madara kept his senses alert, keeping any eye out for anything, feeling for any hint of Sasuke’s chakra as they got closer to the village.

But he could sense nothing as they neared the village. They travelled quickly, and in terse, silent fear, so after a long, grueling day of being on his feet, Madara could only sigh with relief when they finally approached the gates of Konoha and everything seemed to be in perfect order there.

Sasuke was nowhere in sight, though Madara supposed it was a large enough village that he could be here somewhere. But Madara couldn’t sense him anywhere, or any kind of danger at all.

Things appeared business as usual in Konoha.

Sakura and Madara stood a short distance away from Konoha’s gates. They were in plain sight now, and if someone were to come through the gates, they would immediately see the two of them.

Sakura didn’t seem concerned by this.

“Sasuke’s not here,” she said.

Madara looked down at her face. Her relief was palpable. “Perhaps your vision was wrong,” he said hopefully. “Let’s pray that mine was, too.”

Surprised flittered across her face as she glanced back up at him. “You mean from the cave?” she asked. “You think that was a vision?”

“It was a vision,” he said softly, but he didn’t feel like arguing with her about it.

Sakura seemed to sense this. Her gaze flicked away from him. “We should go see Tsunade-sama,” she said instead, her eyes wandering toward the Hokage tower off in the distance. “Then we should probably head to the hospital. It’d be nice for you to have a proper physical examination and we’ll need to make arrangements to continue my research here.”

“You’re not done?” he asked.

“You don’t have Mangekyou yet, do you?” she asked. “Because until I figure out how to get you there without pain, my research isn’t done. Until I figure out how to keep that darkness out of your head permanently, my research isn’t done.”

Madara could only stare at her.

“We need to talk to Tsunade-sama,” she said again. But she didn’t move. She twisted her fingers together nervously, her gaze lingering on the spire of the Hokage tower.

“But…?”

She looked back at his face, and something there worried him. “There’s someone else I want to see first.”

///

Madara followed her into the village, feeling an immediate alarm to be so exposed. With no henge, Sakura’s chakra signature flaring like she was trying to start spiritual fireworks show, and an increasing draw of attention from the onlookers on the streets, Madara could feel panic rising in his throat.

“Should we be out here so—”

Before he could finish the question, Sakura leapt up onto the nearest balcony. Madara jumped after her, caught off guard when an orange blur burst through the balcony doors not even a second later.

Madara frowned when Sakura embraced this orange blur. They clung frantically to one another, Sakura in tears. He recognized him as her teammate, and his relief was obvious.

“Sakura-chan, what the hell is going on?” he asked, pulling away from her long enough to catch a glimpse of the Madara looming over them. He pushed Sakura behind his back, which Madara watched with amusement. His stance turned defensive. Madara looked up at his face.

He felt a sudden lash of chakra – something bizarre, inhuman. He nearly recoiled, but he realized that it was sealed inside of the boy.

Naruto, Sakura had said his name was. If he had any kind of control of that beast inside him, it wouldn’t be good to underestimate him. It gladdened Madara to see him so protective of Sakura, even if it made challenge stir his gut.

“Is this the guy that kidnapped you?” Naruto demanded. “Hey, what the fuck? Who the hell is this guy, Sakura-chan? He’s got—”

Sakura smacked the back of his head. “That’s Madara Uchiha, you moron,” she snapped. “He founded Konoha. Don’t you remember anything from the academy? And no, he didn’t kidnap me.”

Naruto rubbed sheepishly where Sakura had struck him. “Sakura-chan, I’m not trying to step on your toes here, but if Madara Uchiha founded Konoha, then how is he standing on my balcony right now?”

She nearly smacked him again, but he dodged her. Madara cocked his head in amusement, forgetting for a moment that there was much to worry about. This was Sakura’s life. He was finally going to get a chance to see Konoha properly.

Sakura shushed Naruto and ushered him back inside before reaching back to pull Madara inside, too. She slid the door shut sharply behind them and then drew the blinds closed.

“Kakashi-sensei should be here soon,” she said to them.

“Sakura-chan, you should really go see Tsunade-baa-chan,” Naruto said. “If you’re okay, you should let her know. She’s got to be so worried about you. You are okay, aren’t?” His gazed flicked over to Madara, who had yet to speak a word.

“Trust me, she’s not worried,” Sakura said.

This made Madara blink. “She’s not?” he asked.

Naruto and Sakura both turned their gazes to him, and he suddenly felt very out of the place in the very small apartment he now found himself in. It was smaller even than Sakura’s, and filthy. There were empty ramen containers strewn everywhere and the pungent smell of soured milk hung in the air.

“She knows what I’ve been doing,” Sakura said quietly, her eyes apologetic. “I never really tried to hide it from her. I told her what I planned to do, and then I just did it. I didn’t really give her a chance to tell me no.”

“What exactly have you been doing?” Naruto asked.

Madara and Sakura exchanged glances.

“All that can wait,” Sakura said impatiently. “Naruto, I think Sasuke is going to attack Konoha. We ran into him—”

“Hold on a second. What?”

Sakura scowled and crossed her arms over his chest. “He’s killed Itachi and I think he plans to—”

“He killed Itachi?” Naruto interrupted again, his voice taking on a pitiable amount of excitement. “So he can come home now?”

“You’re not listening, Naruto,” Sakura said, grabbing his arms and guiding him to sit at the nearby kitchen table. “Sasuke is unhinged. His curse – it’s at a catastrophic level right now. He’s in a lot of pain, and he’s wild. I had a vision that he’s going to attack Konoha, and I—”

“Yo.”

Three sets of eyes slid to the balcony, which Madara was surprised to find open. He wasn’t often sneaked up on. He realized that this was Sakura’s sensei, the Sharingan user. The man stood against the doorframe, his headband lowered to cover his stolen eye.

His one visible eye was on Madara, not bothering to hide the animosity, curiosity, and confusion that were very plainly written there. He seemed to take cue from his teammates and was calm as he entered the kitchen, though he didn’t take his gaze off of Madara.

“Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura breathed and rushed to embrace him. He locked his arms around her, though his face was still quite stern and disapproving.

“Sakura-chan,” he said affectionately, and Madara wondered if he believed that she had been kidnapped or if he had been privy to the truth. He seemed relieved to find her back here, but equally suspicious of the impossibly young Uchiha in the room.

“Leave it to my favorite student to bring home a really dangerous stray cat,” Kakashi said with a dry chuckle.

Sakura’s gaze flicked to Madara’s, and there was a warmth and amusement there that spread like fire though Madara’s chest. Had he not been in the presence of two potentially dangerous opponents, he might have smiled back.

“I thought Sasuke was your favorite student,” Naruto said.

“At least you realized that it wasn’t you,” Kakashi teased.

Naruto pouted; Sakura giggled. This felt strange to Madara. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his gaze drilling into Sakura. She had stepped away from Kakashi, though Madara noted the familiarly close distance they kept, and the way he angled his shoulders protectively around her.

Madara scoffed at the idea that there was anyone in this room that cared for Sakura’s safety more than he did, but he supposed he could understand their concern. He had the reputation of a deserter and a criminal around here, after all.

“Kakashi-sensei, Sakura said Sasuke killed Itachi,” Naruto said.

Kakashi looked down at his supposed favorite student. “Is it true?” he asked.

Sakura nodded. “At least that’s what he told Madara,” she explained.

Team 7 turned in tandem to look at him. Madara felt another slice of discomfort cut through his chest. He did not belong here. His skin prickled. He needed some fresh air.

“Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met,” Kakashi said, extending his hand toward Madara. “I’m Kakashi Hatake, leader of Team 7.”

The idea of introducing himself suddenly seemed very distasteful. Should he introduce himself as head of the clan that was currently in complete shambles, a blight on the village’s good name? Should he introduce himself as Madara Uchiha – renowned villain of Konoha, attacker of the Shodaime Hokage?

Kakashi’s hand hung between them, light glinting off his metal wrist guard. Madara flicked his gaze up toward Sakura before he took Kakashi’s hand and shook it. Sakura gave him a small smile of reassurance.

“Madara,” he said gruffly – no other words necessary. No point in drawing further attention to his inexplicable and illogical presence here.

“Right,” Kakashi said, looking back over his shoulder at Sakura. “So I’m going to need someone to start filling in all these blanks.”

///

Half an hour later, Sakura had managed to fill in most of the blanks. The four of them sat at Naruto’s kitchen table while she explained everything that had happened so far, leaving out the more sordid details about her relationship with Madara.

Kakashi listened with rapt attention. Madara was still suspicious of this man and his stolen Sharingan. Sakura’s research on the curse might not apply to him, but her research on the Sharingan itself certainly would. He had as much reason as anyone to want Sakura to continue this research.

Sakura had pulled her notebook from her pack and placed it on the kitchen table for them all to look at while she explained herself. Kakashi’s eyes hadn’t left the pages at all save to glance up at Sakura every now and then to ask a question.

“Enough about the stupid Sharingan,” Naruto said impatiently. “What’s this about Sasuke attacking the village? Does that have anything to do with your research?”

Sakura glared up at him. “I had a vision of him attacking Konoha,” Sakura snapped. “Madara saw visions of him, too.”

Alarmed to have been accused of something that suddenly had every set of eyes back on him, Madara folded his arms over his chest. “Sakura, you had better hope that neither of our visions come true,” he said. “To be quite honest, I think we should talk to your Hokage and figure out what she knows about time travel, and then get you the hell out of here as fast as possible. If Sasuke really is going to attack Konoha, I don’t want you anywhere near it.”

“You don’t understand, Madara,” Sakura said, her eyes pleading with him. “Sasuke is like family to me. I’m not going to let him go wild and suffer through all this pain without at least trying to help, and I’m definitely not going to abandon my village while it’s under attack.”

“But I saw—”

“None of that matters,” Naruto interrupted, prompting a glare from Madara. “Sasuke would never attack Konoha.”

Sakura deflated, her features warming and darkening all at once. Her hand slipped into Naruto’s and she threaded her fingers through his. “Naruto, he’s not himself right now,” she said softly. “It’s his curse.”

“You don’t know that,” Naruto argued. “Since when do you have visions, anyway? You can’t predict the future.”

“Maybe not, but—”

“She can help him, Naruto.”

Everyone froze, their eyes drifting back to Madara.

“He is cursed,” Madara continued. “Even if she is wrong and Sasuke doesn’t attack, he’s still a threat until his rage either passes, or he is consumed by it. As far as I know, Sakura is the only person with the knowledge to help him.”

Naruto and Kakashi exchanged glances with each other before their gazes both flickered to Sakura.

“Well, okay,” Naruto said a little disbelievingly. “So where is Sasuke now?”

“Last we saw him he was in pretty bad condition,” Sakura said, “but that was a couple of weeks ago. I imagine he’ll have sought out medical treatment somewhere by now, but I have no clue where he actually is.”

“He’s probably in too much pain to travel at the moment,” Madara supplied. “He awakened his Mangekyou when he killed his brother. He’ll be suffering until his new eyes adjust themselves. He’ll likely being laying low.”

The table fell silent. The members of Team 7 had heavy hearts, with dejected faces to match. The only one Madara cared about was Sakura, who sighed as she inspected the wood grains in the table. Madara wished he could reach across the table and thumb her cheek, coax a smile out of her.

He hated when she was sad – especially about Sasuke.

“We should bring this information to Tsunade-sama,” Kakashi suggested. “We’ll need to put together a search and rescue team for Sasuke as soon as possible.”

His eyes slid over to Madara.

“And I’m sure this surprising addition will warrant her attention as well,” he continued, jerking a thumb in Madara’s direction.

Madara looked at Sakura, already wishing that her teammates were gone so that he could be alone with her again. She didn’t look too thrilled to be going to see her mentor, and Madara wondered what kind of trouble she would be in.

Truthfully, Madara wasn’t all too excited to see her, either.

Except, well, she was Hashirama’s granddaughter. Perhaps it could be interesting.

///


	31. Chapter 31

Hashirama’s granddaughter was rather pretty, Madara was displeased to note immediately. He stood in her office at the top of the Hokage tower, Sakura to his right, Kakashi and Naruto to his left.

Tsunade sat behind her desk, her face pulled into a deep scowl. Said scowl had not left her face since it had appeared there when Sakura had dutifully explained to her all of the things that had transpired since her alleged kidnapping.

To Madara’s utter astonishment, there was not a lot of information that the Hokage was missing. Sakura hadn’t told her anything about the lengthy research she’d been doing in the cottage, and Tsunade didn’t ask. Madara could only presume that Sakura had been giving Tsunade information about her whereabouts for some time now.

And that did not sit well with him.

“You don’t know what direction Sasuke went?” Tsunade demanded, rubbing her brow in annoyance. Madara couldn’t help but be reminded of Hashirama, who often made the same motion when he was annoyed. He nearly gasped in horror when he was again struck by how pretty Tsunade was.

Sakura glanced up at his face and then back to Tsunade. She shook her head. “No, Tsunade-sama,” she said.

“How sure are you that he will attack Konoha?” Tsunade asked. “Are you sure he’s not just trying to get to you?”

“Yeah,” agreed Naruto, earning a quiet glare from Tsunade. “Since when do you have visions of the future?”

“Since when do long dead ancestors appear from the past?” Tsunade snapped back. She let out a growl of frustration. The room grew tense – he could feel Team 7 rigid on all sides of him, but Madara only felt vaguely amused.

“Okay, everybody listen,” Tsunade said, threading her fingers together and resting them on her desk with restrained patience. “We’re not going to waste any more time or resources on looking for Sasuke. I’ll have all ANBU notified to keep an eye out for him and to watch for his attack. Until—”

“Sasuke could be out there hurt somewhere for all we know!” Naruto lashed. Kakashi put a hand on his shoulder. “We have to go find him!”

“If Sasuke wanted you to find him, he would have come back, Naruto,” Tsunade said. “The brat has made his decision. Over and over again. I’m not going to bother dragging him back to Konoha if he doesn’t want to be here.”

Madara frowned. What would the state of the Uchiha clan become with its sole survivor nothing but a wandering nomad – a fugitive at that.

A heavy silence settled over the room. Madara heard Sakura swallow next to him. He felt the urge to reach out and take her hand, but he didn’t think that would be wise to do in front of her master and teammates.

“Naruto, if Sasuke does attack…” Tsunade’s gaze narrowed. “You are probably the only person who can stop him.” Her gaze flicked to Sakura, and then to Kakashi. “Team 7. I know how much Sasuke means to you all. I hope that he can be saved, but if he cannot, then I’m trusting you to do whatever it takes to protect your village.”

If dark clouds invaded everyone’s heads, then Sakura’s and Naruto’s would have been exploding. Madara could feel their sticky, cloying rage and pain broiling thick in the air. Even Kakashi, who Madara noted was more level-headed than his teammates, was rigid.

“You can’t possibly be suggesting that we kill our own teammate,” Sakura said dryly.

Tsunade blinked at her with patient, but condescending eyes. Such a Hashirama face, he thought to himself with a tickled grin. He shook the expression away before anyone noticed his horribly inappropriate amusement.

“I’m not suggesting it,” Tsunade said calmly. “I’m telling you not to spare Sasuke’s life at the expense of anyone else in Konoha. The village comes first, understand?”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama,” Naruto and Sakura said in tandem. Tsunade seemed skeptical.

“Glad we’re clear,” Tsunade continued. Her gaze caught on Madara for a moment. An expression tugged across her face, and Madara activated his Sharingan. He couldn’t quite place the emotion on her face, but he was instantly curious.

“Naruto, you’re dismissed,” she said, her eyes flicking back to Naruto, who groaned, but immediately turned around to leave. “Kakashi, you’re dismissed, too. Keep an eye on Naruto. Make sure he doesn’t go after Sasuke.”

“I’m not going to go after Sasuke,” Naruto grumbled under his breath.

Kakashi guided Naruto to the door by his shoulders. “I’ll see to it that he won’t, Tsunade-sama.”

He pushed Naruto through the door, leaving Tsunade alone with Sakura and Madara. Her gaze hardened on Madara, cautious, curious, reserved. It made sense for her to feel wary of him. She was trying to protect her village, after all. So much like Hashirama.

“I never found anything on time travel,” she said, her voice rather cold. “I scoured the archives, but that sort of technology just doesn’t exist.”

Madara blinked and shifted his gaze accusingly to Sakura. “Have you told her everything?” he demanded, feeling a stab of betrayal.

“Yes, Sakura,” Tsunade agreed, her eyes also sliding over to Sakura with a little mirth crinkling them. “Have you told me everything?”

“Of course,” Sakura answered the both of them. She turned to Madara. Her expression wasn’t apologetic, but it was tender all the same and it annoyed him that he felt softened by it. “I trust Tsunade-sama. She’s smart. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without her.”

Tsunade was grinning on her side of the desk, her hand clasped neatly in front of her. Madara pointedly ignored her.

“I knew you didn’t trust her because she’s a Senju, but I do trust her, and you can trust me,” Sakura continued.

Madara frowned, feeling rather irritated. There was only one Senju that he even remotely trusted, and that was Hashirama.

“I’ve not had you locked up yet, have I?” Tsunade asked. Madara glared at her. “I trust Sakura’s judgment, and she doesn’t seem to think you pose any danger to Konoha. Since she does seem to believe that about that goddamn brat she’s always pining after—”

“Tsunade-sama!”

“—I’m inclined to think she’s unbiased in this assumption.”

Madara smirked. “She’s a little biased.”

Sakura let out a cluck of irritation, and Tsunade seemed surprised but quickly recovered, clearing her throat and shuffling around the papers on her desk.

“Anyway,” she said, her voice terse, “While Sakura’s been researching your curse, I’ve been looking through old Uchiha archives trying to find anything pertaining to this odd business about the moon.”

Attention fully captured, Madara took a step closer to her desk. “I’d like to see these archives for myself,” he said with the kind of tone that brooked no argument.

He saw the argument ebbing on Tsunade’s face before she seemed to think better of it. “It’s your right as an Uchiha, I suppose,” she said. “In fact, I’m sure you’ll get far more out of it than I did. It looks like the Sharingan is a prerequisite for access to parts of the archives.”

Madara flicked his gaze to Sakura, who looked hopeful. This did sound far more promising than anything they’d done so far.

“Were you able to find anything helpful, Tsunade-sama?” Sakura asked.

“I found a small excerpt from a stone tablet,” she said, shuffling through more files on her desk until she had found a manila folder. She slid it forward on the desk for Madara to pick up. He opened it and pulled out the thick white parchment inside. It was a pencil rubbing of a tablet etching, though most of it had crumbled away, leaving only fragments of sentences to decipher.

“It looks like a story about two sons who sealed their mother, along with something else, inside the moon,” Tsunade explained. “It’s incomplete, but there could be more about it in the restricted sections of the archive. If you’re interested in following this lead, Sakura can take you to the Uchiha compound.”

Madara slid the pages back down into the folder and placed it back on Tsunade’s desk.

Tsunade turned her attention to her student. “Sakura, with Uchiha-san’s permission, I’d like you to take him to the hospital and give him a full work-up. Look for signs of premature aging in his body. I have a feeling the effects of long-distance time travel can wreak havoc on a body, and there are still so many questions. I want to make sure we turn over every rock, got it?”

“Got it, Tsunade-sama,” Sakura said. “Is that okay with you, Madara?”

He could think of no reason not to, so he merely nodded.

“And lastly, the research.” A beat of silence stretched across the room, jarred only by the screeching of a flock of birds outside the window.

“It was a shocking revelation indeed to find that the great Madara Uchiha was going to allow our humble Sakura to get a peek inside his head,” Tsunade said, and there was something that looked suspiciously like condescension and disapproval on her face.

“She seemed pretty confident that she wouldn’t mess it up,” Madara said with a shrug that looked indifferent. He felt anything but.

“But you trusted her?” Tsunade demanded. “Even Sasuke wouldn’t let her do that, and he’s known her his whole life.”

“Sasuke is a fool. He doesn’t know what she’s capable of.”

Tsunade frowned, and Madara glanced to his left at Sakura, whose face was charmingly red, although she wore a somber expression. Her gaze was still on her mentor, but Madara noticed her inch incrementally closer to him until they were standing near enough to touch one another should either of them move their arms.

“I see,” Tsunade said. “I certainly don’t mean to dissuade you from working with her. I’m just surprised that you’d let a stranger have access to your kekkei genkai like that.”

“Sakura has had ample opportunity to hurt me, should she want to,” Madara said. “It was clear her only interest was in curing the curse and saving Sasuke. Obviously this works to my advantage as well.”

Tsunade’s eyes flickered between the two of them with obvious uncertainty. Sakura’s cheeks were horribly flushed, and Madara could only presume that Tsunade knew at least a little bit about the romantic nature of their relationship. He wondered if it was something he should have felt embarrassed about.

“Of course,” Tsunade murmured. Her gaze drifted back to Sakura. “I’m eager to see what you’ve learned so far. Now that you’re back in Konoha, you can report here first thing in the morning instead of the hospital. I’d really like to go over your… methods.”

Madara tensed at this, not sure he wanted a Senju to be privy to all the secrets of his doujutsu.

“What about Madara?” Sakura asked.

“What about him?”

“He’ll have nowhere to go.”

Tsunade glowered. “Do I look like a babysitter?” she asked dryly. “He’s a grown-ass man.” She eyed him up and down. “Barely.”

Now he was really annoyed. The flare of his chakra must have alerted them both to his new rage. He felt Sakura’s hand come up to his face, but he quickly brushed it away.

“I maimed your grandfather for far less innocuous comments,” Madara seethed.

The air in the room thickened for approximately a second before Tsunade burst into laughter. Sakura’s hand had fallen to Madara’s arm. He could feel her fingers curled tightly around his wrist.

“See?” Tsunade said, her eyes crinkled in an amused grin. “He’s maimed my grandfather. He won’t need someone to hold his hand.”

“Are you sure you want to agitate him, Tsunade-sama?” Sakura said, bristling on his behalf, which for some reason made him want to kiss her really hard. “It’s counterproductive to my research.”

Checking to see if he was, in fact, agitated, Tsunade looked up into Madara’s eyes. She stared for a moment, probably a bit mesmerized by his Sharingan. People often were.

“Sakura, go prepare a patient room for Uchiha-san,” she said after a moment. “You can give him his physical there and he can stay there for tonight. We’ll figure something else out tomorrow.”

Warily, Sakura glanced between Madara and her mentor. “Umm, should I—”

“You’re dismissed, Sakura. Go.”

To Madara’s great amusement, Sakura looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Her face paled as she obediently backed her way over to the door. Tsunade watched dryly as she slowly shut the door behind her.

When he could no longer sense Sakura in the building, Tsunade returned her gaze to him.

“You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

Madara blinked, caught off guard. “Not yet,” he answered. It was instinctive. So was the grin that slowly spread across his face at the thought.

“Fucking teenagers,” Tsunade muttered under her breath.

Madara growled, darkness swooping across the inside of his skull. He caught himself wanting to snap at her that he was twenty, but he knew how churlish that sounded. He roved his eyes over her instead, taking note of the de-aging jutsu that made her appear at least thirty years younger than she was.

“Look, I’m sympathetic. I know you can’t control your emotions that well with Sakura poking around in your head like that,” Tsunade said. “But that girl is like a daughter to me, and if you hurt her, whether inadvertently or not, I will maim you.”

The darkness in his head, for some reason completely unbeknownst to him, began to dissipate.

“But at the same time, she’s gotten herself into a sticky situation here with this research,” Tsunade said. “I fear she’s too close to the project.”

Madara knew nothing about the research so he didn’t feel qualified to disagree, but something told him that Tsunade was wrong. Sakura thought the same thing, he remembered. But he felt in his bones that they were both wrong.

“I need to know I can count on you not to screw this up.”

“What?”

Tsunade rolled her eyes impatiently. “You’re competent, aren’t you?” she snapped. “You can make this research thing work without imploding? We’re trying to figure out a way to get you back home. Have you thought about what’s going to happen if we do?”

Madara narrowed his eyes at her with suspicion. “Why are you so keen on helping me, anyway?” he asked, diverting the subject.

“Would you rather stay here?”

“I…”

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” he snapped. “I need to get back home to save my brother. Nothing is more important than that. Not even Sakura’s research.”

Tsunade frowned. She was still for a moment, and silence settled around them again. Then, abruptly, she reached up and pressed her fingertips to his temple.

For just a second, Madara allowed the contact. The moment her chakra slipped into his head, he caught her wrist and shoved her away.

“I don’t fucking think so,” he snapped. It didn’t matter that whatever she had done did not hurt – only that it felt nothing like Sakura’s cold chakra, and he didn’t trust a Senju inside his head.

“So Sakura’s the only one who can look at you?” she asked with a scowl.

“Until I decide otherwise.”

She yanked her arm away from him and crossed it over chest, jutting her chin up into the air stubbornly. “You know I taught her everything she knows.”

“Not everything,” Madara said with a laugh.

He sobered up under Tsunade’s glare, and he realized there were a great many things he should discuss with the Hokage of his village, starting with his very presence here.

“I’m aware of my reputation here,” Madara said. “I didn’t expect to be welcome.” Not by a Senju.

“Again, I don’t think you’re a threat to Konoha,” Tsunade explained. “You just want to save your brother. And fuck Sakura, apparently.”

Madara, having had enough of her disapproving tone and snarky remarks, slammed his palm down onto her desk. “I see where Sakura gets her smart mouth from,” he bit out at her. “If I ever do make it back home, I’ll have to warn Hashirama about his impertinent granddaughter.”

“And I suppose I should warn Sakura that she’s playing a dangerous game cozying up to an ancient, horny Uchiha with a God-complex,” Tsunade snapped, but Madara swore he saw amusement in her eyes. “But I’m sure she already knows that.”

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “You disapprove of our relationship.”

Tsunade sighed. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I’m elated that she found someone to divert her attention away from Sasuke. It’s just that… well, it’s you. That’s worse, I think, but even as I say that out loud I don’t know if I believe it. You’re as agreeable as I could expect an Uchiha to be.”

His frown deepened.

“So you’re going to lean in to the whole relationship thing, eh?” Tsunade asked. “Is that what this thing between you and her is?”

Madara tensed, sure that this topic of conversation would lead to nowhere good. His plan to steal Sakura away, take her back home, marry her, and fill her with children did not seem like something Tsunade would be on board with, nor did it seem like something Sakura would accept right now.

So it was really better to just keep his mouth shut about his love for her for now.

“Since Sakura trusts you so much, I’m sure she’ll have no problem explaining the finer nature of our relationship to you,” Madara said frostily.

Tsunade scoffed. “I’m interested in what you think,” she said.

Another beat of silence made the room feel tense. On some level, Madara was aware that Tsunade was only trying to look after Sakura. If she had been chasing after Sasuke for this long, he supposed he could understand why Tsunade might be hesitant to believe this was healthy.

“I’ve got no intention of hurting her, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Madara conceded to say. “She is valuable in many ways. I don’t want harm to come to her any more than you do.”

Tsunade once again wore a mask of disapproval, but Madara wasn’t sure what she was so disapproving of.

“Do you approve of Sakura’s research?” Madara asked, remembering that Sakura had told him Tsunade wouldn’t be okay with this. She didn’t seem so bothered by it now.

“I didn’t at first,” Tsunade said, “but once that girl gets it in her head to do something, there’s no stopping her. And it seems to have worked out for the best. If there is a potential that she can find a cure, then obvious we need to find out for sure. The Uchiha clan is at stake here. Losing Sasuke means losing the Uchiha clan forever.”

“Since when does a Senju care about the Uchiha clan?”

“My grandfather did, didn’t he?”

Madara rolled her eyes. She clearly didn’t understand the dynamic between him and Hashirama.

“The Uchiha clan is a valuable asset,” Tsunade continued, seeing the look on his face. “And contrary to what the Nidaime thought, not all so bad. You forget that I knew the Uchihas before the massacre. There were others – not just Sasuke and Itachi. You think I would harbor hatred for them on account of an ancient grudge?”

“A war is hardly a grudge,” Madara said tersely.

“Look, we can put all that behind us,” Tsunade said. “I’m the only living Senju, and since Sasuke doesn’t really count right now, you’re the only sane, living Uchiha.”

She held out her hand expectantly. “A truce?” she said.

“A truce?” he laughed. “Not on your life, Tsunade-chan.”

Tsunade was up on her feet in an instant, circumventing her desk to poke him aggressively in the chest. “Now listen here, you little brat—”

Madara caught her wrist and twisted her arm around her back, grinning from ear to ear. Yes, Tsunade was very much like her grandfather, and with a pang that was somehow both horror and pleasure, he realized that Sakura was very much like her mentor.

“No need for name-calling,” Madara said, releasing her arm. She seemed to recognize that he was only teasing her, but she scowled at him all the same. 

“You know I’m twice your age, right?”

“More like three times my age,” Madara pointed out with another wide grin.

Her scowl deepened. “You’re as troublesome as any of the other rookies,” she muttered under her breath.

He didn’t know what she was talking about, but it sounded condescending again and it made him want to smack the back of her head. Had he been talking to Sakura, maybe he would have. Part of him wanted to be respectful of Hashirama’s granddaughter and the powerful position she was in. Another part of him wanted to de-throne her and take her place.

“Alright, fine,” Madara said, earning a look of confusion from Tsunade. “I will not treat you like the grandchild of my good friend, and you will not treat me like one of your adolescent charges. Agreed?”

Knowing that she would get no better offer, Tsunade clasped her hand around his.

“Agreed.”

///

Madara left Tsunade’s office feeling marginally better about his situation here. She wasn’t the worst Senju he’d ever met, and since Sakura was so fond of her, he supposed she wasn’t all that bad. For a Senju.

She had pointed him in the direction of the hospital, and he had dutifully walked down to the street to find Sakura.

It was unexpected to be welcomed here in Konoha, and Madara wasn’t quite sure of how to feel. Walking across the street to the hospital, he saw more people like the ones in that tourist town – some shinobis, some civilians, all bustling about, paying Madara no attention. Being a founder of the village, he had expected to be noticed a little bit more.

He walked through the automatic doors of the hospital, mildly surprised that they opened on their own. He was starting to get used to some of the luxuries of the future, but that did catch him a little off guard.

Inside the lobby, he immediately heard shrill yelling, and glanced up at the front desk to see a tall, familiar blonde girl berating a mousy, dark-haired woman.

“I swear to God, Shizune, if you don’t tell me where she is right now—”

“She’s busy, Ino,” the other girl snapped. “She just got back to Konoha. She’s got a million things on her plate right now.”

“She was fucking kidnapped, gone for weeks, and you’re already putting her back to work?” Ino demanded. “Where the hell is Tsunade-sama? Sakura needs to rest. She needs to unload. She needs to vent—”

“You’re just being nosey,” the dark-haired girl interrupted. “Sakura’s fine. I’m sure she’ll come find you when she has a moment.”

Madara approached them, eyeing Ino up and down. She was quite a pretty little thing, if a little mouthy. So this was Sakura’s best friend?

“You’re looking for Sakura?” he asked her. “I’m looking for her, too. Maybe you can help me.”

Two sets of eyes fell on him. One jaw dropped in shock.

“Ah, Uchiha-san,” said the mousy one, Shizune. “Sakura is preparing a room for you now, but she should be—”

“You’re Madara Uchiha,” Ino said, her tone unconvinced and cautious.

“And you’re Ino,” he said, wishing he’d caught her last name, too. Even just her first name was enough to make her blink in surprise, though.

The presence of Sakura’s chakra signature caught his attention, and Madara turned just in time to see a pink blur barreling in his direction. Said blur crashed into Ino, pulling her into a tangle of bony limbs and reassurances.

“Ino, oh my God,” Sakura gushed, pulling back to look properly at her friend. “I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you everything. You have no idea. I have so fucking much to tell you. Like, so much.”

Madara cleared his throat, feeling a little neglected and a little unnerved that he was clearly going to be the topic of discussion between the two of them.

“Umm, you owe me big time for this,” Ino said. “There were rumors—” She cut herself off and flicked her baby blues in Madara’s direction. “I guess they were true.”

“Listen, Ino, I’ll explain it all later, but I’ve got some things to take care of right now,” Sakura explained. “Maybe we can catch up tomorrow over dinner?”

Ino looked back at Madara suspiciously. “Promise?” she asked Sakura.

Sakura promised. Satisfied with that Ino gave Madara another wary glance and then turned to Shizune. “Sorry for accosting you,” she said. “I was worried about Forehead. That’s all.”

Shizune and Sakura both gave her dry looks.

“Alright,” Sakura said, shifting her focus to Madara. Her eyes met his, filled with concern and curiosity, but also incredible tenderness and warmth. “Uchiha-san?” she said, gesturing toward the hallway behind her. “If you’ll come with me, we can begin your physical exam.”

Madara raised a brow at the formal address, but followed her obediently down the hall, sparing one last glance at Ino and Shizune.

///


	32. Chapter 32

The hospital was unlike any other place Madara had been. It was nothing like the infirmary tents back home. The chemical smell was so powerful that Madara wanted to hold his breath. The lights were so unnaturally bright that his eyes stung unless his Sharingan was activated. Loud machines hummed and whirred all over the place, and gentle cries and moans of other patients floated up from different rooms as they passed.

It was a little creepy. Peering into the rooms, Madara saw that some of them were injured shinobi, some sickly elders. There were pregnant mothers and excitable children. There was so much noise, so much stimuli, that Madara began to feel queasy. It didn’t help that he could hear someone vomiting nearby.

“Right this way,” Sakura said, rounding a corner. She’d lead him to the furthest corner, the very last room on the hall. It was more secluded than the rest, and the sounds and smell weren’t quite so powerful over here.

He glanced down at her with a sudden surge of affection.

Inside the room looked the same as all the others he had passed. There were more loud machines, an interesting looking bed, and a large window that overlooked a sort of courtyard.

Sakura grabbed a clipboard from a pocket on the wall near the door and gestured toward the bed with it. “Just have a seat over there,” she said. “I’ll be just a second.”

Madara obediently sat down, watching as Sakura scribbled things down onto the clipboard. When she finished, she set it down on the bed beside him and looked up at his face.

“Do you have a headache?” she asked. He had a feeling that this question wasn’t so innocent. He shook his head. Sakura frowned, and her fingers twitched, but she only picked the clipboard back up and scribbled something else down.

For the next half hour, Sakura was silent. She carefully and clinically gave him his physical examination, testing his joints, his muscles, his eyes, his brain. She poked and prodded at him with various instruments, and Madara allowed all of this, though he wasn’t exactly thrilled when she plunged a needle into his arm to draw blood.

“For blood work,” she murmured to him, but he didn’t know what that entailed, nor did he care.

When she had finished, her gaze finally returned to his eyes. Madara felt he had been patient enough. He had been so wrought with worry for her on the way here, and the relief that Sasuke was not here, that he was alone with her again… He was overwhelmed with the urge to touch her.

He knew that she was curious about what had transpired in the Hokage’s office after she left. No doubt she had been worried, and part of him wondered what horrifying scenarios had gone through her mind.

But first he threaded his fingers into her hair and pulled her face close for a warm kiss. Sakura stiffened for a moment, but then melted against him.

“Your Hokage trusts your word,” he said when he pulled away, feeling admiration and affection for this girl, so accomplished and beautiful. “There are no stipulations for my being here.”

“None at all?” Sakura asked, swooning a little as she looked back up at him. Being seated on the bed gave her a bit of extra height on him, but he still towered over her. Madara resisted the urge to pull her up into his lap, caught in the trap that her moony gaze cast.

He wouldn’t tell her what Tsunade thought – that he would break her heart by leaving her here when he went home. He had no way of reassuring her that he had absolutely no intention of doing that without unveiling to her that he fully intended to bring her with him. He didn’t think she’d take kindly to hearing that, and it didn’t matter so much right now. He still had no idea how he was going to get home.

And that meant he’d be here in Konoha for a while. There would be plenty of opportunities to capture Sakura’s heart. If the look she was giving him now was any indication, he was halfway there already.

“None,” he replied. “I’m free to follow up on this lead she found, and you are free to continue your research.”

Sakura grinned up at him, and it was the most genuine smile he’d ever seen from her. She was happy, which made his heart burst and gush hotly through him, melting him entirely, body and mind. His fingers lingered on her neck until she reached up and pulled his hands into hers.

“Wanna go get something to eat?” she asked.

Madara glanced at the window out into the courtyard. The sky was dark, and wispy grey clouds floated across the sky, making the sparse stars dip in and out of existence. He’d much rather be out there in that than in this strange hospital room.

“Yes,” he said, rising to his feet. Towering over her again, he could no longer see her face unless she was looking up at him. “I want to check out that ramen stand you were telling me about.”

Her face tilted – he was met with the full force of her happy, surprised smile.

“You remembered that?”

He remembered it off-handedly, but he wasn’t going to tell her that and diminish the odd joy it seemed to give her that he did, in fact, remember. If remembering things was enough to win her heart, this would be even easier than he anticipated.

Before he could answer, his stomach rumbled. Sakura giggled, tugged gently on his arm, and dragged him back out into the hall.

///

Being an Uchiha in Konoha was a little bit like being famous. He could tell that many of the people he passed believed him to be Sasuke at first glance. He imagined Sakura’s presence by his side had something to do with that. He felt twinges of uneasiness anytime one of them did a double take, letting their eyes linger with curiosity before they darted away bashfully.

Aware that he could be intimidating, and that if anyone recognized him they might become hostile, Madara deactivated his Sharingan. It was a strange sensation to walk openly through crowds of strangers without his kekkei genkai activated as at least some form of defense.

But Sakura walked beside him with casual ease, carefree as he’d ever seen her. She was glad to be home – that much was obvious. After seeing her spend so much time being worried and afraid, it made his heart swell to see those feelings were gone, at least for now.

As they approached the ramen stand, Sakura slowed her gait and groaned with irritation. A small crowd stood around the stand, each stool filled with a body.

Sakura joined the queue and Madara stood beside her watching as the people around them slowly began to notice her presence.

“Sakura! You’re alive!” said a young man clad in a hideous green jumpsuit that made Madara feel ill. He reached for her and pulled her into a half-assed hug. Sakura smiled as she unhooked his arm from around her.

“Yes,” she agreed, “Alive and healthy.”

More people noticed her – two Byakugan users, one male, one female. A rather bored looking boy with a high ponytail. Another boy with strange face markings and dog curled up at his feet. This one grinned a little too widely at Sakura when he saw her, and even without his Sharingan, Madara managed to catch the lecherous glance her gave her body.

Ignoring a swoop of darkness so small it was hardly worth thinking about, Madara shifted his attention back to everyone else. They were all looking at him warily, which he supposed made sense, but it made more darkness come, and it became harder to ignore.

“We heard you were kidnapped,” said the female Hyuuga timidly, avoiding looking at Madara entirely.

“She wasn’t kidnapped,” Madara snapped, and all of them bristled.

“I wasn’t kidnapped,” Sakura echoed quickly, placing her hand on Madara’s arm. “It’s complicated. We were just going to grab something to eat here, but maybe we should take it to go…”

“Hey, I recognize you,” said the perverted dog-boy. “You’re an Uchiha.”

“Astute observation,” drawled the bored one.

“Looks like Madara Uchiha,” said the male Hyuuga. He glanced at Sakura’s face, his expression neutral. “Complicated, indeed. Should we be worried?” His gaze flicked back to Madara.

Sakura shook her head. “He’s been cleared to be here by Tsunade-sama,” she said.

“How exactly did he get here?”

“Why is he so young?”

“Is it some kind of jutsu?”

Sakura shook her head again. “Later, guys,” she promised. “We’re both really hungry.”

The group quieted, their gazes drifting back to their half-eaten plates. Sakura seemed grateful for this, and Madara was grateful that she didn’t deign it necessary to introduce him to all of them.

They got to the front of the line and Sakura ordered food for the both of them. She paid for it with coins from her pocket, and Madara felt suddenly very discontent with being taken care of like this without being able to reciprocate.

It was hardly a thing to be annoyed about considering that if he ever brought her back home, he’d provide her with anything she asked for. There were still plenty of ways he could take care of her here, too, but Madara decided that at some point he should figure out how to obtain some money of his own.

When they were handed a steaming paper sack, Sakura quickly ushered Madara back toward the street and began walking toward her apartment building. Madara fell into step behind her, peering down at her with a renewed curiosity.

“Those were your friends?” he asked.

She nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t expect all of them to be there,” she explained. “It would have been nice to sit down inside.

Madara felt a smile pull at his lips. Perhaps it might have been nice to sit down inside, but he rather liked the idea of eating privately with her in the privacy of her tiny apartment. It wasn’t quite as lux as the cottage, but it offered a similar set of possibilities.

///

Sakura’s apartment was in the exact same condition she had left it in, down to the broken bathroom doorknob. She deposited the sack on the counter and began to haphazardly clean up the clutter that had collected in places it shouldn’t.

Madara helped himself to a seat at the kitchen table, unpacking the food for the both of them. He felt a comforting wave of domestic bliss that he should get to sit and enjoy what smelled and looked to be a good meal with some good company.

“Do you have a headache?” Sakura called from the other side of the room. Madara glanced behind him to see her tucking her hair behind her ear as she shelved some books.

“Looking for an excuse to touch me?” he teased.

She flicked a disapproving glare in his direction, but Madara didn’t miss the grin that lit her up from head to toe. She abandoned the stack of books that sat beside her on the floor and came to sit down at the kitchen table across from him.

“I doubt I’d need one,” she teased back, reaching for the pair of chopsticks he held aloft for her. She pulled them apart and began to inhale the food in front of her, barely looking up at him as she wolfed it down.

Amused, Madara dug into his own food. It was a little salty for his taste, but he ate it happily nonetheless.

“So, tomorrow morning I’ve got to, you know, go back to work,” she said. “I’ve been enjoying the time off, but it’s time to get back to business. If you want, I can show you to the Uchiha compound tonight so you can head over there tomorrow. I wish I could come with you.”

Madara nodded. He was actually grateful that Sakura would not be there with him. After all, she was not an Uchiha yet, and she already knew far too many of his clan’s secrets. He didn’t need to share them all with her.

“The compound is vacant?” he asked.

“Unless there are ghosts,” she said through a mouthful of noodles.

“So I’ll be alone all day, then?”

“Do you need me to take the day off so I can hold your hand?”

Madara frowned. He was certain that no good Hokage would allow a purported criminal like him inside the village, free to roam the streets alone. If Sakura was his keeper, he supposed he could allow that. But he had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to be out of Sakura’s company, he’d find himself being watched from the shadows.

“I was only teasing,” Sakura said, and he glanced up at her face to see her concerned look.

“I know,” he said reassuringly. “What else do you know about the Uchiha compound?”

“Not much, to be honest,” she replied. “It’s been vacant for years now. The only reason it hasn’t been torn down yet is because Tsunade-sama is hoping that Sasuke will come back and restore his clan one day. I think… I think if Sasuke dies, she’ll probably have it torn down.”

Madara’s lips twitched. If that were true, then he needed to explore as much of it as he could tomorrow. There was no telling when Sasuke could show up, and Madara couldn’t promise to himself that he wouldn’t kill Sasuke should he make any attempt to harm Sakura.

“Are you sure you don’t have a headache?”

He set down his chopsticks and tilted his head. “Is there a reason you want to look at my head so badly?” he asked her. He didn’t mean for it to sound accusing, but Sakura’s flushed, demure reaction roused his suspicion.

“An excuse to touch you?”

“You’ll never need one, Sunflower,” he said, gracing her with a smirk.

“I worried that your conversation with Tsunade-sama might have…”

“Given me a headache?” he supplied.

Sakura cast her gaze quickly to the floor. “It’s just that I know how much you hate the Senjus, and you can have a sharp tongue sometimes,” she said. “Tsunade-sama has a short temper, and well…”

Madara grinned at her. “I like her,” he said. She reminded him of two of his favorite people.

“You do?” Sakura asked with an incredulous blink.

“Surely as her student you don’t find that hard to believe,” Madara teased. “I find it hard to believe you don’t like your own master, the one you trust so implicitly.”

“Of course I like her,” Sakura breathed reactively, but he could tell that she was still confused by his assessment of the Hokage.

“I understand why you were honest with her, Sakura,” Madara said. “I felt betrayed at first, but in spite of going against my wishes, I think you were still trying to do right by me.”

Sakura flushed and opened her mouth to speak, but Madara beat her to it.

“I’m quite interested in hearing what exactly you told her about the nature of our relationship, though,” Madara said, raising a brow at her.

With a dry throat, Sakura asked, “Did she talk to you about that?”

“Yes,” Madara said, his smirked widening at her clear annoyance with him and his vague answers.

“Well, what did she say?”

“She wanted to know if I’ve fucked you yet,” he said. “Her words,” he added, seeing the look of mortification on her face.

She swallowed, and Madara watched the lump form on the pale column on her throat. She had abandoned what was left of her food, her elbows slinking up to find a place on the table.

“What did you say?”

“I told her the truth.”

Her eyes narrowed on him, her patience growing thin. “What truth?”

He laughed. “That I’ve not fucked you yet,” he said, amused by the abashed duck of her head. “She didn’t seem concerned with my feelings, though,” he added with feigned sadness. “Only yours.”

This made Sakura’s head tilt in adorable confusion. “Mine? What for?”

“She came to the same conclusion you did, dear,” he said, leaning closer to her over the table. “That you might be too close to this project.”

Sakura flushed again, and this time her embarrassment was accompanied by shame. He supposed it wasn’t abnormal for her to feel that way, though he hated to see the expression on her. Her closeness to the project was inevitable, and would be inevitable no matter who was directing it. For Sakura to feel shame that she was somehow failing at properly conducting her research was absurd.

“However,” Madara continued, and Sakura’s gaze lifted back up to his. He smiled reassuringly at her. “She and I both agreed that you are still the best person for this job.”

“Obviously!” Sakura exclaimed. “Who else could do it but me?”

“She did try to get a look at my head,” he pointed out. If Tsunade had taught Sakura everything she knew, it stood to reason that she’d be just as capable of performing these feats. For Madara, it was solely a level of trust that separated them in his mind.

“You didn’t let her?”

“She’s okay as far as the Senju go,” he conceded, “but she still is a Senju and I’d let her plunge a kunai into my heart before I’d give her access to my brain and my eyes.”

Her eyes glinted with dark mischief. “You never gave me such a choice,” she accused teasingly.

“Do you want it?” he asked, her voice a little darker and little more heated. Sakura leaned forward, too, and his eyes dipped down to her cleavage before he corrected himself and dragged his gaze back to her eyes. “I think I’d have a hard time denying you anything you asked for.”

Sakura’s eyes widened and her cheeks reddened. She may have mistaken the words for a flirtation, but from Madara’s lips they felt more like a confession of weakness. Women, he remembered, often had the tendency to become weaknesses. It was hard for a man – a war-hardened one at that – to deny himself the solace and comfort of the woman he loved.

And he sensed it growing in himself by the second, a little bead of love in his heart that was always jolting and oozing and burning every time he looked at her. A weakness, indeed. He’d put aside his own safety in a heartbeat if it meant ensuring hers.

“I promise not to abuse this information,” Sakura said, gathering composure enough to sit up primly.

Madara was not worried in the slightest that she would abuse it.

“I would like to ask one thing of you, though.”

“What’s that?” he asked her, watching her with eyes that glimmered.

Her eyes dipped down to her lap bashfully. It was bizarre to him that a girl who had ridden his face with such reckless lust could now demure when only asking him a question. When her gaze came back up, there was less shame and more amusement there, and Madara wondered if it was at her own expense – silly girl.

“I know it will not improve Tsunade-sama’s opinion on the… nature of our relationship,” she said softly, “but would you like to stay here with me?”

“For the night?”

She blinked. “Or longer,” she said, her voice wavering slightly with an emotion that Madara was unsure of. “I just hate the idea of you sleeping in that hospital room… And to be honest with you, I sleep better when you’re with me.”

Madara had never heard of a finer idea in his life, and he was overcome with joy that it had been her to suggest it and not him. He hoped that she was prepared to sleep better for the rest of her life.

“I see,” he said, his voice neutral. Sakura’s eyes shimmered with a knowing look, as if she knew he would undoubtedly accept her offer. “I wouldn’t want you to lose any sleep.”

“I know it’s not as glamorous as the cottage—”

“No, but it’s where you live,” he interrupted. “It’s far more intriguing, I think, to have your things to snoop through when you aren’t here.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Well, not if you asked me not to.”

She looked adorably flustered for a moment, bordering on confused. A wave of exhaustion suddenly swept over him and he grew tired of not having her in his arms.

He picked himself up from his chair and strode over to her. She looked up at him, a cacophony of curiosity, warmth, and contentedness. With a belly full of her favorite food, and the prospect of curling up in her own bed tonight, she must have finally felt a little real contentedness, and this made Madara feel content himself, too.

“I’m tired,” he said, extending his hand to her.

“You don’t want me to show you to the Uchiha compound first?” she asked, glancing at the darkened sky through the window.

“Show me in the morning,” he said. “I can’t think of doing anything else until I’ve ensured you’ve gotten a proper amount of sleep.”

Sakura giggled. “I thought you were the tired one.”

“Well, yes, but I can see that you are, too,” he explained, “and since you sleep better with me, and I sleep better with you—” Sakura smiled widely at this, and for a moment Madara’s heart lurched so hard he felt as thought he couldn’t continue speaking, but he cleared his throat to continue. “We should retire now.”

“Okay, Mada-kun, let’s go to bed,” she agreed.

His heart, already subjected to far too many abnormal beats and bursts and lurches and halts, beat furiously in his chest. Something about being addressed like that reminded him of Hashirama, who often teased him with it. When Sakura said it, though, it was… different. A good different.

She rose from the table and collected their empty food containers to discard. Madara helped her, and when they were finished, she slipped her hand into his and pulled him into her bedroom.

Her bed wasn’t quite as luxurious as he remembered it to be. The massive one at the cottage may have ruined him for life. While a cot had been enough comfort to make him feel lavish back in his own time, Sakura’s tiny bed didn’t thrill him the same way it had when he’d first seen it.

But once Sakura had stripped off her clothes and slipped beneath the covers, clad in nothing but her underwear, Madara forgot about any of that. He forgot that Sakura wasn’t his wife yet, or even properly his lover. He’d of course never asked her such a thing – that was pure insanity.

She felt very much like his wife already as he crawled into bed beside her, discarding his own clothes so that he would be able to feel the hot press of her skin against his.

So he forgot that it wasn’t the sex arena he’d wanted it to be, because he found that it was something even better instead. It was a home. Maybe not a permanent one, but it was Sakura’s home now, and that made it feel like Madara’s home, too.

Madara stretched his body, settling against Sakura’s plump pillows with a contented sigh. Sakura wasted no time in settling herself against the contour of his body.

“I’ll have to show Tsunade-sama the research I’ve done so far tomorrow,” she said, resting her cheek against his chest. “Are you okay with that?”

“No,” he answered instinctively. The idea of sharing the enigmas of his mind with his sworn enemy was never something he’d easily agree to, even for Sakura, whom had had just promised to give anything she asked him for. “But it doesn’t matter what I want, does it? You’ll give it to her anyway.”

She went rigid against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head to soften her, to show her he wasn’t angry with her.

“Not if you ask me not to.”

He smiled against her hair, not sure whether he believed her.

But there were other reasons for why he wasn’t going to be unrelentingly angry at the prospect of Tsunade seeing the research. The Hokage he met today seemed to understand the gravity of the research, of his being here. She seemed more than willing to help him get back to his own time, and he suspected that, in spite of the fact that she was a Senju, she actually did care about the state of the Uchiha clan. It was an asset to her village, and since he knew she was the only living Senju, her clan was no longer a threat to his. Not here.

And if he ever did make it back to his own time, it will have been her and Sakura whose combined efforts would lead to the future he deserved, the one they all deserved. Perhaps it was foolish hope, but Madara couldn’t help but be grateful for these two women, whose ability and willingness to help him was going to make sure he could build the best Uchiha clan possible.

“I won’t ask you that,” he said. “Not if a fresh set of eyes will help you figure something out. She taught you everything you know, right?”

“Well, not everything.”

Madara smiled again and he could feel Sakura smiling, too, against his chest. She sighed and he let the heavy weight of his arm settle around her shoulders, drawing her impossibly closer to him.

With the cadence of her heartbeat and even breaths, Madara closed his eyes, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he fell into an instant and deeply satisfying sleep.

///


	33. Chapter 33

Madara breathed in deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of cucumber and citrus, folding himself around the warmth that it emanated from. Sakura’s body – a warm, soft, ball of pure comfort – pulled away from him. Desperately, Madara inched closer, annoyed when a burst of cold air invaded the pocket of heat he’d settled in.

Blearily, he opened his eyes. Sakura’s silhouette was slipping quietly away from the bed. He glanced up at the window, noting the still-dark sky.

He growled, reaching possessively for her. He caught her wrist and yanked her back toward him. He was hardly aware of her squeal of protest, even less so of the irritated look she shot him.

“Madara, I have to go to work,” she said, “and you—”

He silenced her by lifting her back into the bed and pressing her face back against his chest. He was sorely tempted to roll on top of her, to use his weight to pin her down and keep her here beneath him forever.

“Madara!”

A sharp jolt of chakra lit up his body and he yelped, releasing her from his vice grip.

“It’s still dark,” he complained, letting his hands linger on her arm as long as they could before she’d slipped away from him again.

This time it didn’t bother him quite so much as Sakura flipped on the lights and he was met with the sight of her beautiful, half-naked body again. A faint smile rose to his lips as he stretched and yawned, reclining back against her pillows.

He watched as she bustled around her room, grabbing clothes, fooling around with her hair. “I know it’s early,” she said, rummaging through her closet, “but this is what time I always wake up. You need to get up and get dressed, too, so I can show you where the Uchiha compound is.”

Groaning, Madara lurched up to his feet. He was becoming spoiled, he thought. Would he be able to drag his ass back into battle if he ever made it back home? He was finding it harder and harder each day to want anything other than Sakura by his side and a warm bed.

Grateful that he was out of bed, Sakura found his pack and pushed it into his hands. “When I find the time, I’ll get you some more clothes,” she said. 

She turned back to her closet before Madara could answer. He wasn’t too excited by the idea of letting Sakura continue to take financial care of him, but he wasn’t sure how to articulate that to her in a way that wouldn’t offend her.

Once she had an outfit in one hand and a large towel in the other, she turned to give Madara a dry look. “Can I trust you not to come into the bathroom this time?” she asked.

He glanced out in the hall at the knob-less bathroom door. “No,” he said with a wicked grin.

She swatted his chest with vehemence, her eyes bright and fiery. “Yes, I can,” she said. “Hurry up and get dressed.”

Obediently, and with a teasing grin, he bent down and kissed her. “Okay.”

Sakura ducked into the bathroom, which she could no longer close properly, and Madara dutifully went back to the bedroom and dressed himself in the white t-shirt Sakura had given him and his own pair of pants. Then he headed into the kitchen to scrounge up something for him and Sakura to eat.

Her kitchen, however, was only stocked with things long expired, and Madara knew nothing about the packaged foods in her cabinets. He did manage to find a proper teakettle, which he knew how to use, though the strange stove gave him a little more trouble.

By the time he’d found a couple of sachets of green tea and steeped them, Sakura had emerged from the bathroom. Her damp hair had been twisted up in a tidy bun held in place with a couple of black chopsticks. She wore a modest red dress beneath her white medic’s coat, and Madara could tell that she had used some sort of kohl around her eyes, and her usually pink lashes were now longer and black.

He grinned, his pulse jumping erratically at the sight of her like this. He’d never seen this professional side of Sakura before and he sort of wanted to follow her around at work and learn everything there was to know about her.

Sakura didn’t notice this quiet admiration he gave her as she approached him and lifted a steaming mug of tea from his hand. “Thank you,” she murmured, slipping past him into the kitchen.

She opened the freezer and pulled out a box of something that she placed in one of the contraptions on her counter. Without sparing a glance in Madara’s direction, she reached into her cabinet for two plates. She set them on the counter, and when she whirled around to face Madara, she froze.

Madara crept closer to her, his gaze trailing from her charmingly confused face down to the exposed skin of her silky legs.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her head tilted, brow furrowed.

“Like you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen?” he asked, latching his hands around her little waist to hoist her up onto the counter behind her. “Because you are.”

Sakura braced her hands against his shoulders as he moved into the space between her knees. A smile teased at her lips and Madara wanted to let her speak, but he couldn’t help himself so he kissed her again.

He pulled back away from her and her hands slid up to cup the sides of his neck. He was entirely enamored by the dazed grin on her lips and the way her eyes dipped down to his mouth and then lower to the collar of his shirt. She kicked her legs with a sort of childish giddiness and pulled him back for another quick kiss.

Cold chakra was suddenly everywhere in his brain. Madara panicked and broke the kiss, but the chakra was coming from her hands, which gripped a little tighter around his neck as he pulled away.

“Sorry, sorry,” she cooed softly, pulling him back. Madara didn’t resist her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured again, and then kissed him again. Her chakra warmed a little, but he could still feel it, and he knew it must have been for her research, but it surprised him that she hadn’t warned him first.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice strained.

“You’re hardly affected by your curse these days,” she explained, absently rubbing her thumb across his pulse. “I think it’s because you’re happy. I just wanted to see what state your head was in. You said the headaches don’t go away on their own, and I hadn’t cleared away the cloud in several days.”

“But I didn’t have a headache,” he said.

“No, Mada-kun,” she said, kissing him again, and he knew in that moment that he would never grow tired of her kisses. “You didn’t.”

Confused, he pressed his forehead against hers. “What does that mean?”

“It means emotional pain translates as physical pain for you,” she said. “And this will be harder to confirm, but I suspect you feel emotional satiety when you experience physical pleasure.”

Any kind of talk about pleasure from Sakura got his blood pumping a little harder. He smiled lazily, thinking about all the pleasure they could share with each other.

“Why would that be harder to confirm?” he asked, trying to stay focused.

Her hands flitted down to his shoulders and then slowly down his arms. Her gaze followed one of her hands and a dreamy look came over her.

“Because your pursuits of physical pleasure distract me,” she said, her eyes drifting to his chest and then up to his neck. She brushed aside his hair and leaned forward to press her face into his neck.

Madara’s heart exploded and its molten remnants dripped inside his chest. Sakura breathed against him, and then he felt her chakra in his head again.

This time he welcomed her, repressing the strong urge to return her affection lest he distract her.

“And even when I’m not distracted,” she breathed against his neck, “it’s hard to pinpoint exactly how close this link between physical sensation and emotion is.”

Madara held perfectly still, his heart stuttering with both nervousness and Sakura’s nearness. Her chakra lingered around the nerves in his eyes. They tingled under her ministrations, and he closed his eyes, ignoring that sensation so he could focus on the feeling of Sakura’s lips against his neck.

“That’s not exactly what I’m looking for now, though, Mada-kun,” she said, moving her lips up to his jaw. She kissed the junction between his ear and his neck, and Madara felt his heart leap up into his throat.

“What are you looking for?” he asked with a dry throat.

“A link between pleasure and the catalyst that awakens a more powerful version of your kekkei genkai,” she explained.

The appliance behind her dinged, breaking the spell that had been cast over them. Sakura broke away from him and hopped down off the counter. She whirled and removed two pastries from the appliances, plating one and handing it to Madara. A little dazed, he took it, accepting the quick kiss she offered next.

“I’m sure it’s there,” she said, taking a bite of her own pastry. “Maybe if you find something other than me that gives you pleasure I’ll have an easier time finding it.”

Madara grinned wolfishly at her, knowing full well that nothing had given him more pleasure than her touch. Ever.

“We can think more about that tonight after I get off work,” she said. “First things first. You’ve got some exploring to do today.”

///

Though it pained him to do so, Madara had become accustomed to leaving his Sharingan off whenever he walked through the streets of Konoha. His piercing red eyes drew far too much unwanted attention, and it seemed that being at Sakura’s side was enough to get a more pleasant kind.

People smiled and waved at her as she passed, some addressing her formally, some more familiarly. All of them wished her a good morning. Their warm gazes didn’t transfer when they fell on Madara. They quickly glanced down at their feet, or if they were bold, gave him a stony glare.

He had deduced that people still believed he had kidnapped Sakura, and since they all seemed to love her so much, he supposed he could understand the frost. Add to that the potential of being recognized as Madara Uchiha – or an Uchiha at all… well, all their hostility made sense.

Still, it made him uneasy to pass through them, especially since soon their destination became clear. It was hard not to notice that the Uchiha compound was in the furthest corner of the village, away from the Hokage tower, the epicenter of goings-on in the village.

He suddenly felt a hot, cloying anger fill his stomach. The Uchiha compound, while large and clearly magnificently built, was derelict. It’s neglected state had allowed roofs to cave in, walls to crumble. Everything was covered in wind swept dust and grime, or tall, reedy weeds.

Walking through the lasers of their gazes toward the abandoned glory of his former clan was too much. Darkness began to press against his temples. He breathed in to collect himself, to exert a little control over these emotions that Sakura believed to be so crucial to the state of his kekkei genkai and his curse.

Dust filled his lungs and he coughed into the crook of his arm. Sakura, a step ahead of him, stopped and spun to face him.

Her gaze went over his shoulder and scanned the faces that were still watching their backs as they passed. Madara could hear their hushed whispering, and judging by the look on her face, Sakura could, too.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “Allergic to dust?”

Madara shook his head and swallowed the dryness in his throat. He grabbed her waist and pushed her back toward the Uchiha compound. “Keep going,” he urged, desperate to get away from those peering, sneering eyes.

Sakura acquiesced and they quickly traveled the short distance to the compound’s gate. The closer they got, the fewer people lingered on the streets. Madara wondered if people had steered clear of the compound even when it had been full of Uchihas. Perhaps they were even more inclined to do so. He was beginning to understand the Uchiha clan’s reputation in Konoha, and it made his teeth ache.

“Ignore them,” Sakura muttered as she pulled aside the rusted gate, careful to keep her fingers away from the brambly vines that grew along the wrought iron. “They’re ignorant of the truth, but it isn’t their fault.”

Madara breathed a sigh of relief to be away from their frigid stares, but it didn’t make him feel much better to be in the empty streets of the vacant compound.

Sakura reached up and brushed away a tendril of hair that had fallen into his eyes. Her fingers found their way to his temple and lingered there, flushing a small amount of chakra into his head. Judging by the headache that remained even after she’d pulled her hand away, it must have been diagnostic.

“Are you going to be alright here by yourself?”

Madara gave her a very dry look. “I think I can manage.”

Her lashes fluttered as she cast her glance away from him. Her lip caught between her teeth and her brow creased with worry.

It occurred to him then that this would be their first time apart since he’d met her. He felt silly for the sudden sweep of sadness that rattled him, but he tried to remember that things were different here. She wasn’t going off to battle, just work. She would return to him.

“Okay, well, I need to get to work,” she said. She leaned up onto the tip of her toes to kiss him. With bittersweet amusement, he realized she was too short to reach him and she settled for a chaste kiss at the base of this throat.

“You’ll come back, won’t you?” he teased.

She tugged impatiently on the collar of his shirt. “Of course I’ll come back.”

Obligingly, he bent down to give her a proper kiss. It felt different this time to have her mouth against his. It wasn’t his lust for her that fueled the affection but a desire for the domestic comfort she offered. Her kiss was a glass of cold water on a blistering day, a birdsong on a lazy morning in bed. The feeling was new, Madara thought, forcing himself to release her arm.

There was very little that stopped him from wanting to cling onto her forever, to keep her constantly in his sight. If he’d had that same inclination with Izuna, perhaps he wouldn’t even be in this situation right now.

But Sakura had her duties, and Madara had his, so he let her go.

///

Left to his own devices in the compound, Madara wasn’t exactly sure where to begin. He wandered the street for a while, trying to intuit where he should go or what he should be looking for.

The main house was easiest to spot. It was the largest, and bore a large Uchiha clan crest on its broad side. Madara wandered in that direction, feeling a little uneasy. He was certain Sakura had been joking about ghosts, but with all the horrors this compound had seen, he wasn’t so sure that otherworldly spirits weren’t lurking in the shadows.

And that was in addition to whatever spies the Hokage had sent after him.

He reached out with his chakra as he wandered, trying to source anything amiss. Everything was unnaturally quiet.

The entrance to the main house was ensconced in cobwebs, so Madara cleared the silky strands away with a brush of his arm and ducked his head to enter the darkness.

Tomoe began to spin in his eye. He looked around the dank, dirty remains of the Uchiha clan’s main family room. He could tell that it had been kept up before its current state of vacancy. The furniture was just as nice as the furniture at the cottage had been. Pictures of the head family were scattered about among other family trinkets and heirlooms.

Curious, Madara approached a small table upon which sat a framed picture of the head family. A frown flittered across his face before he smoothed the expression away, uninterested in the pain it brought to his head.

He recognized Sasuke immediately, even though he was quite small in the picture. He could only have been five, at most, but he looked just as Izuna had at that age, which made Madara’s resolve tighten a bit. Sasuke sat perched atop another boy’s shoulders. Madara assumed this was Itachi, who couldn’t have been too much older than Sasuke.

They were positioned in front of the house with the Uchiha crest looming behind them. Itachi stood beside his father on his left – an Uchiha if Madara had ever seen one. Now that stern face and tight jaw were characteristics he recognized. The man reminded him of his own father, ever rigid and stoic. To Itachi’s right was a far more agreeable looking woman. She was pretty and feminine, if a little ordinary.

Madara set the picture back down and dusted his hands on his pants. The rest of the house was dusty but appeared to be in fine structural condition, so Madara took his time ambling through each room.

Part of him wanted to reverently remember these people, his future family. He touched their knick-knacks with a bit of admiration for them. If it was true that they had all been slain by Itachi, he couldn’t even imagine the hurt and betrayal they must have felt. Especially his parents.

And yet… Sasuke had been spared. Madara couldn’t quite shake the feeling that things didn’t add up. There was a lot he didn’t know about the massacre, and he had a feeling that this place wouldn’t give him the answers he needed.

But as he continued through the house, he found a room with a dedicated shrine. It was small, containing nothing but a simple altar dedicated to the Uchiha clan. There was some text on the front side that Madara didn’t recognize, but he memorized it with his Sharingan, hoping that someone later could fill him in on what the script was.

The shrine itself offered him no secrets, but he found himself hopelessly absorbed in the image of a single Sharingan eye that was emblazoned across the front. It was such a lifelike depiction that he felt restless, as if it were watching him. He stared a moment longer, feeling as if he were being sucked into a genjutsu before he shook his head and returned to his senses.

At a loss for what to do, he headed back to the main room of the house. He supposed that as good a place as any to start was the collection of books and scrolls that lined the walls. Madara reached for a random book and blew the dust away from it. He coughed as he opened the tome, clearing the airy dust away with an impatient hand.

Luckily for Madara, it seemed that the Uchiha clan had made a point to carefully take down a detailed account of their history. He wasn’t surprised at all to find his own name in the meticulously scrawled pages.

So he lifted a few more books into his arms, and headed out to the porch. He found a suitable rocking chair, stacked his books beside him, and delved right in.

///

Madara found himself engrossed in his clan’s history in spite of the fact that it was apparent no real secrets were kept in these books. He found the genealogy particularly interesting, taking careful note of those he knew and whom they had married, how many children they’d had.

Even the more current history had piqued his interest. Reading about Sasuke’s family in particular was captivating. Madara remembered Sakura mentioning something about how Itachi was well respected and loved among both his clan and the villagers, and nothing in the archives seemed to dispute that.

This only made him feel more uneasy as it became clear that something was definitely not right where the massacre was concerned. Why had Itachi done something like this?

All thoughts of the massacre flew from his head when he felt a familiar chakra signature approach the compound. A moment later he heard the distant sound of the rusted gate creaking open and then shutting again.

Madara held his book in his lap, his finger holding his place. It was only midday now, and it didn’t surprise him at all that for the last several hours he had been entirely engrossed in his reading.

But the sight of Sakura ambling down the street toward him melted a little chunk of ice that had started to form around his heart in her short absence. Perhaps it was a side effect of lingering in the haunted Uchiha compound, but the darkness of his thoughts hadn’t even occurred to him until the brightness of the sight of her had faded it away.

He rose to greet her as she bounded up the porch steps. Her hair was still in her bun, though wisps had sprung free and floated wistfully about her face. In her arms were two plastic containers of sushi, which he immediately pulled from her hands so that he could kiss her without the threat of spilled food between them.

The kiss was cut short by the smile that broke across her face.

“I could get used to being greeted like that,” she said with an impossibly charming grin.

His chest felt suddenly tight. She would get used to it; he would make sure of that. “Sakura,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

“I brought you some lunch,” she said, gesturing toward the containers he had set atop his stack of books. “I see you’ve been busy this morning.”

He nodded as he guided her toward another rocking chair with a hand on the small of her back. “Yes, and I have some questions for you,” he said. He surveyed the rocking chair and the thick layer of dust that had settled on top of it. With a frown, he realized it wouldn’t do for Sakura to sit on it in her white coat, so he used his hand to brush aside the grime.

“For me?” she asked with an eye-crinkling grin. He wasn’t sure if she was referring to the chair or the questions.

He clapped the dust from his hands as Sakura sat down. He seated himself beside her and reached for the food. He hadn’t even realized how hungry he’d gotten, but now the scent of fish filled his nostrils and he felt a sharp pang of hunger.

“About the massacre,” he clarified.

Sakura reached for his food and snatched it out of his hands. With a disapproving look, she reached for his wrist and held aloft his dust-covered palm. “Go wash your hands, you chivalrous fool,” she teased, releasing his arm.

Madara rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried about a little dust,” he said, unwilling to part from her for longer than necessary. He knew she would have to get back to the hospital soon.

“You will be if you get sick.”

“If I get sick, I’ll have you to take care of me,” he argued. “I don’t find the prospect as disagreeable as you seem to.”

She tossed him a dry look, but there was thinly veiled amusement lighting up her eyes. “I’ll be angry with you if you get sick on purpose.”

Madara couldn’t remember the last time he’d been sick, but he wondered if it was worth all the sniffling and sneezing and coughing to have Sakura’s undivided care and attention. He already seemed to have it, if he thought hard enough about it. He was inherently selfish enough to want a little more.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to be angry,” he said, and quickly disappeared into the house to wash his hands.

When he had returned to the porch, Sakura had already opened her food and eaten well more than half of it. Astonished by her ravenous hunger, Madara merely blinked at her as he took his seat.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“An ANBU black op had his arm cleaved clean off this morning,” she explained. “I’ve spent all day putting the damn thing back on. It’s really exhausting work and the damn fool doesn’t even seem grateful. He keeps complaining that it’s taking too long. Well, of course it’s taking a long time! His whole arm came off.”

Madara was too stunned to even blink. “You can do that?”

“Of course I can do that,” she said, already shoveling more food into her mouth. “I mean it’s going to take a lot of physical therapy, but eventually he’ll have full functionality again. Luckily for him it was a clean sever.”

The idea of someone’s arm coming off and then just being sewn back on as a proper, working limb made Madara feel for the first time like he was actually in the future. Such a feat was unheard of in his time. If you lost a limb, there was no such thing as reattachment.

“Sorry, I’m ranting,” she said through her mouthful of food. “How have things been going here? Did you find anything useful?”

Madara wasn’t sure yet, but he fully intended to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know ya'll don't care about author's notes, but I just wanted to drop a quick thank you to everyone who had been keeping up with this story! I'm truly blown away by all the kind words. I appreciate them more than you know!


	34. Chapter 34

“What do you know about the Uchiha massacre?” Madara asked, using his toe to lightly rock his chair as he picked at his food.

Sakura, who had already devoured all of her food, sat cross-legged in her chair. Her eyes were fixed on him with total and complete focus, and Madara liked to have her undivided attention like this.

“Not much, to be honest,” she said. “I was young when it happened, you know. And of course I never wanted to ask Sasuke about something like that.”

“Of course,” Madara echoed softly, watching a tendril of her hair blow in the breeze.

“If there is something to know about the massacre,” Sakura began, and Madara could tell by the shift in her tone that she believed there was something fishy about the massacre. “You could ask Tsunade-sama.”

“Would she tell me?”

“How should I know?” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. “She hasn’t even told me.”

Madara frowned. If the massacre was some sort of conspiracy, then the Hokage must have known about it. Judging by the timeline of events, Tsunade wasn’t the Hokage at the time, but a man named Hiruzen Sarutobi – the Sandaime.

“Sorry, I know this isn’t a joking matter.” Her face held ample apology, but Madara was too distracted to reassure her.

“Would Tsunade-chan have been made privy to that information after the Sandaime and Yondaime passed?” he asked her.

Sakura recoiled like he’d thrown a kunai at her face. “Did you just call her Tsunade-chan?”

“There are still gaps in my knowledge regarding the Hokages and the village’s history,” he continued, ignoring her question because he wasn’t entirely sure that it would be wise to explain his innocuous urge to… belittle wasn’t the right word, but something about Tsunade begged to be knocked down a peg. In spite of that, he felt affection for her, if a little minutely. She was Hashirama’s granddaughter, after all.

Sakura’s face sobered as he breezed past her incredulous question. She squared her shoulders toward him, her mouth curving into a delicate frown. “There is a council of elders,” she explained. “They help govern the village and assist the Hokage when necessary. They are responsible for acclimating the new Hokage, so if someone would have given that information to Tsunade-sama, it had to have been someone from the council.”

“Do you think there’s something to know?”

“About the massacre?” she asked. “Probably. It does seem a bit strange, doesn’t it? Why would Itachi do that?”

“Was there ever an official explanation?”

Sakura shook her head. “Only that Itachi had gone mad.”

Silence stretched over them, marred by the creaking sounds of Madara’s chair as he rocked. A flock of birds fluttered overhead, and Madara glanced up at the clear sky, noting that the moon was nowhere in sight.

“I’d like to speak to the council,” Madara said. There was no point in asking Tsunade about the massacre if she’d received the information from another source.

Sakura scoffed. “They’re certainly a pleasant bunch,” she murmured dryly.

“A fan of the Hokage but not her council?” he asked.

“They’re a bunch of stuffy old traditionalists,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “They dislike Tsunade-sama because they say she’s too young, but—”

“Too young?”

“But the Yondaime was far younger and he was an excellent Hokage,” Sakura continued. “So is Tsunade-sama. They’re fools, and their old age is catching up to them.”

Madara felt a grin tug at his lips. “Sounds like you’ve got something personal against them.”

She scowled at him, but uncrossed her arms. “I’ve been begging them to approve my plan to build a children’s wing in place of the courtyard behind the hospital,” she said. “The greenhouse is nice, but the courtyard is wasted space. We’re low on space as it is now, and the population of Konoha is growing. In less than a decade our hospital will be too small to service the village, and they don’t even seem to care.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Madara said. “Why wouldn’t they approve it?”

“Too expensive,” she muttered bitterly. “But how can you put a price on the safety and health of our public? If they were to cut fewer tax breaks for the major clans, they’d certainly be able to scrounge up enough funding for the additional wing we so desperately need.”

Madara couldn’t help but admire her then. Her passion was endearing, her thoughtfulness and intelligence beyond charming. Again, he found it entirely logical for the Hokage to have chosen her as an apprentice. He even found himself with a grudge against this council that he hadn’t even met yet.

“You are as brilliant as you are beautiful, Sakura,” Madara told her, amused when her cheeks turned red. “Still, I’d like to talk to the council. I think there’s something really off about this whole massacre thing.”

Sakura nodded in understanding, glancing up at the sky. Her time was almost up.

“I’ll see if I can arrange a meeting, but I’ve got to get back to work soon,” she said. “Would you like to stay here and keep exploring?”

Madara nodded and rose out of his chair. He extended his hand to help her out of hers and kissed her, holding her sweet face against his with more tenderness than he usually showed.

She had been valuable to him in more ways than he could count, and he felt it was high time he returned those favors.

///

Once Sakura had left, Madara took to exploring again. He left the main house, intending to come back later to finish those books and figure out the deal with the shrine that had been there.

He dipped into each home, reverently gazing at the Uchiha family pictures inside each one. He supposed he should have been looking for information about his clan and his curse, but he found himself paying respects and mourning instead. It was hard to swallow the lump in his throat when he thought about how he had failed his clan.

Maybe if he’d never defected from Konoha, he could have prevented this from happening. If his anger hadn’t gotten in the way, perhaps he could have protected them from this fate.

There was no residual anger now. In fact, he couldn’t even muster up a bit of irritation at anything. He felt a sense of tranquility, if a little sadness. He would fix this. He would right this wrong.

As he wandered from house to house, Madara soon found that the dark cloud of pain had descended in his head without him even realizing. It seemed thinner than usual, though its cloying presence was hard to ignore now that he’d noticed it. He wondered if his different emotions should bring different types of pain, and if that was something Sakura had noticed as well.

Deciding that it wasn’t good for the state of his mental health to be wandering alone through the vacant, eerie compound, Madara made his way back to the gate and out into the streets.

The sky was still bright with afternoon sun, and the people that had been lurking about that morning were all gone, going about their day.

Since the opportunity had presented itself, and he was alone until further notice, Madara took it upon himself to explore more of the village. He wasn’t sure how people would react to him wandering the streets alone. Since he had been at Sakura’s side, he’d received glares, but he wondered if those glares would turn to something more heinous without her around.

He still wasn’t sure that he wasn’t being observed from the shadows, so he needed to watch his behavior. He knew his own proclivity to feel rage, and he didn’t want to risk becoming irate at some bold citizen with a sharp tongue.

It turned out that he didn’t have to worry too much about that. People largely ignored him as he passed through the residential streets, though he caught some curious gazes here and there. By the time he’d made it past the other major clans’ compounds, he stopped worrying. No one really seemed angered by his presence – only curious.

Once he found himself in the heart of Konoha, there was far too much commotion for anyone to pay him any attention. Madara found this refreshing, though he felt a little strange. He’d become accustomed to Sakura’s presence at his side, and without her he felt a stab of loneliness. He found it curious that he could be surrounded by so many people and still feel rather alone.

He picked his way through the throngs of people, his gaze flitting between all of their faces. It was still so bizarre to him that all these people lived here in Konoha. He’d never seen so many people amassed together save for on the battlefield. This was nothing like that.

The Hokage tower loomed ahead of him. He stood in its shadow for a moment, gazing up at the architecture. It might as well have been a massive castle for all the splendor and glory in it, though the passersby hardly looked up from the ground as they shuffled by. Madara wondered if they could even appreciate the beauty of something like this if they’d become so accustomed to it being here. Did they even realize what luxury they were living in?

To the left of the Hokage tower, Madara spotted the stone faces of the Hokages carved into the mountain. He knew they were there – he’d seen pictures in the history books. But this was the first time he’d see it in person at a distance where he could make out the facial features.

Hashirama’s face stared off into the distance over the village. Madara’s heart leapt into his throat. He looked older, and of course made of stone, but that was his friend up there. Seeing him made Madara miss his home for the first time in a long while. He wouldn’t mind a good sparring session with his old friend about now.

But the next face in the mountain made bitterness burble up in his stomach. Tobirama’s harsh expression crossed his brothers. His scowl made him appear more stern than Madara remembered him to be, but then again he’d always had a major stick up his ass. Madara hated seeing his face up there. Hashirama’s he could deal with. His brother’s killer was a much harder thing to come to terms with.

What he presumed to be Hiruzen Sarutobi’s face came next. Madara didn’t know much about the Sarutobi clan, though he recognized the name and guessed that he even knew a few members of the clan from his own time. He knew from the books he’d read in the Uchiha compound that Sasuke was named after Hiruzen’s father. At least that meant the Sarutobi clan and Uchiha clan got along relatively well.

The Yondaime’s face was one he didn’t recognize at all. Madara had skimmed his quick history and remembered that he had died trying to seal the nine-tails in order to protect the village. A true Hokage, indeed.

The last face was Tsunade’s. He stared at her for a moment, his thoughts drifting away from him.

“She bears a striking resemblance to her grandfather, doesn’t she?”

At the sound of a familiar voice, Madara turned. Sakura’s sensei stood beside him, his face turned up to the stone faces. His mask and headband obscured Madara’s vision of his face.

“She’s far less agreeable than Hashirama,” Madara said, letting his gaze drift back to his friend’s visage.

“I’ve always heard he was an agreeable man.”

That’s why the village had chosen him as the first Hokage, Madara thought. It was with the tiniest pang of wistfulness that he wished he had been chosen instead. He didn’t begrudge anyone that choice, and Hashirama seemed to have done a well enough job.

Still, it would be his once he returned to his time and fixed all this.

“Tsunade-sama asked me to keep an eye on you,” Kakashi admitted, turning to look at him with his Sharingan-less eye. “Sakura also asked me to come check up on you. Looks like she’s going to have to work late today.”

Madara frowned, which turned into a glare as he continued to look at the man who’d been sent to spy on him.

“I haven’t been tailing you,” Kakashi said, seeing the look on his face. “I just left Tsunade-sama’s office, and here you were. I didn’t even have to look.”

Madara only stared. Kakashi didn’t seem rattled by it.

“Tsunade-sama didn’t specify whether I should be secretly spying on you or just making sure that you don’t find any trouble,” Kakashi said, and Madara felt himself bristle at the implication, “but Sakura suggested that you and I have a friendly spar. She might believe you are getting fat, because she implied that you could use the exercise.”

Something in Madara’s chest loosened. “I don’t think I could engage in a friendly spar with you,” Madara said, his voice calm and neutral. 

“You couldn’t?” Kakashi asked, his head tilted curiously. Madara hated that he couldn’t see his face, but his posture seemed relaxed in spite of Madara’s brooding. “Is it because of my eye? I’ll tell you how I obtained it if it might ease your mind.”

“Sakura informed me that it was your teammate’s eye,” he said tersely.

“And that’s the extent of her knowledge on the matter, as far as I’m aware,” Kakashi replied. “I could tell you the whole story, if you’re interested.”

Madara’s brow creased. If he hadn’t shared this story with his own student, he imagined it wasn’t a story he told many people at all. For that reason alone, Madara was insatiably curious. It was also another insight into the Uchiha clan, or at least one member of it.

“Yeah,” Madara said gruffly. “I’d like to hear it.”

///

Madara took Kakashi’s story with a grain of salt. The particulars were a lot to take in, and given the somewhat terse friendship Kakashi had managed to share with this Obito guy, Madara couldn’t be sure that Kakashi would tell him the whole truth. Especially not if it might anger him.

That Obito had willingly given Kakashi his eye didn’t even seem the strange part. Madara could tell that the loss of his teammates weighed heavy on the man. Still, it must have been either recklessness or sheer desperation that would prompt Obito to give up his kekkei genkai to a non-Uchiha. They both must have loved this Rin girl a lot to make the choices they made back then.

All of this information was regaled to Madara as the pair made their way to the training grounds. Madara had been stonily silent after hearing Kakashi’s story, so Kakashi had filled that silence with information about the village. He detailed the history of the buildings they passed, explained the layout of the village, the location of the training grounds.

He even delved into a little engineering and strategy, explaining to Madara how the walls of the village were designed to prevent against an enemy attack, how ANBU operatives were lurking in tunnels beneath their very feet.

It was an unexpected deluge of information from the man who hadn’t spoken all that much when they’d met before. Madara was grateful, if a little annoyed. It meant he didn’t need to speak, at least.

By the time they’d made it to the training grounds, Madara was already itching to fight. The prospect of a spar was beginning to excite him, and Madara was eager to see how Kakashi managed to wield his pilfered Sharingan. He was also eager to see how good a shinobi Sakura’s sensei was.

With the late afternoon sun beating down on them, Madara and Kakashi squared their shoulders with one another and began to spar. First they focused on taijutsu before Madara’d had enough of that and introduced ninjutsu into the mix.

Kakashi was as good an opponent as any, Madara realized. He seemed to have a pretty good grasp on using his Sharingan, though Madara could see that it tired him quickly and drained a lot of his chakra. In spite of this, he was still an adamant, persistent opponent.

They sparred three rounds, one of which Kakashi won, which irked Madara to no end. He’d still won the other two, of course, but his competitive nature urged him to keep going, to keep winning.

So even though it was apparent that Kakashi was tired, and that this was not a part of his usual routine, they continued to spar all afternoon. Madara felt alive every time his blows landed or his Sharingan caught an attack just in time to stop it. It was exhilarating to be fighting something again, to be hitting and punching and releasing the tampered with feelings that Sakura left floating around his head.

Eventually, the sun dipped down to the horizon and its orange glow made everything feel dusky and warm.

Kakashi was panting a few yards away from him, his hands braced against his bent knees. There was a faint grin on his face, and Madara wasn’t sure what that was about, but he felt a little less hatred for the man now, even if he still didn’t quite believe his story about the Sharingan.

“We have a spectator,” Kakashi said, nodding his head toward the edge of the training field.

Madara had already felt her approach, but he turned to look at her nonetheless.

This was a Sakura he hadn’t seen before, and it took every ounce of self-restraint he had not to run to her and lift her up into his arms. The bun on her had that had been so neatly coiffed this morning was now a frizzy mess flying about her face. The kohl around her eyes was smudged, and Madara deemed by the glassiness of her eyes that she had cried today. He could sense that her chakra was low, and she practically dragged herself over to stand beside him.

In spite of all this, she smiled at him with absurd warmth. “Hi,” she said rather sheepishly, her voice hoarse. She stood in front of the two of them, her head tilted, gaze flitting between them, sizing them up.

After a moment, she reached her hand toward Kakashi’s chest and pressed her palm against it

“No, no,” he said, pushing her hand away. “I’m okay.”

She gave him a skeptical look and pride surged up in Madara’s chest that she had deemed Kakashi’s injuries more worthy of healing than his.

“You’re exhausted, Sakura,” Kakashi said, his voice very soft, if a little argumentative.

Her gaze didn’t falter on him, her teeth clenched tightly. Then her jaw loosened and she heaved a resigned sigh. “Come to my office first thing in the morning and I’ll take a look at your eye,” she bartered.

“I didn’t overexert myself—”

“I can see that you did!” she snapped, gesturing at the now destroyed training field. Madara let his gaze drift over it, wondering how often these fields were tilled and sodded. He imagined upkeep on them must have been expensive and time consuming.

“That was Uchiha-san’s work,” Kakashi argued.

Sakura looked expectantly to Madara as if she expected him to cop up to the crime. “Did you at least win the spar?” she demanded, and something was sparked in her eyes, something amused, hot, and a little dark.

Madara and Kakashi exchanged glances. They’d sparred for the better part of the afternoon and by this point they’d lost count of wins and losses.

“Whomever you were rooting for won,” Madara answered, earning a confused glare from her. Kakashi laughed.

“Kakashi didn’t give you any trouble, did he?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t you be asking the reverse of the question?” Madara asked, brow raised.

Sakura flicked her gaze to Kakashi and raised a brow at him.

“No one gave anyone any trouble,” Kakashi said, his hands up in surrender. “So there’s no need for you to give me any.”

“I never give you trouble,” Sakura insisted.

“You frequently give me trouble,” Kakashi argued. “In fact, just recently, you disappeared for several weeks. Do you know what a headache that was for me? Naruto cried on me. You owe me for that.”

Sakura laughed, but her expression seemed even sadder now. Madara felt a sudden swell of anger at Kakashi for upsetting her like that.

As if she could sense that (and maybe she could), Sakura returned her attention to him, her eyes sharp and focused.

“Do you have a headache?” she asked him.

In ordinary circumstances, Madara would have told her no. It was hardly a headache, just a minor nuisance. He’d dealt with far worse pain before, and the idea of getting acclimated to no longer feeling it made him feel weak. Being accustomed to pain was a good thing; he’d be feeling a lot of it, he imagined.

But he would accept any excuse to touch her or let her touch him, so he nodded.

Sakura didn’t immediately reach for his temples as he had assumed she would. Instead, she nodded, too. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s get out of here and I’ll take a look. Maybe we can pick up some food on the way. I’m starving.”

Seeing her so tired and hungry made Madara feel sick. He didn’t have the heart to tell her to forget about his headache. She wouldn’t do that anyway. But he hated being a burden to her when she obviously carried so many other responsibilities, which somehow included something that had made her cry today.

“Thank you, Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura said, her gaze flitting to her teacher. They shared a meaningful look. “For everything.”

“Anything for my favorite student,” Kakashi said, his eyes crinkling in a wide grin. He reached up and pulled his headband back down over his Sharingan eye and then turned to Madara. “And my new favorite sparring partner,” he added.

Madara could do nothing but blink at that. He supposed it was normal that Kakashi would be excited to have another Sharingan user around, especially since Sakura was researching his eyes. Whatever she learned could be applied to him, too, save for things related to the curse.

That didn’t set well with Madara.

Again, Sakura seemed to notice this. He marveled at how in tune she was with the minute changes in his state of mind. How could she sense things like that? Was she using chakra?

“Come on,” she said to Madara, linking her arm through his. He ignored the thrill that shot down his spine. He wished he could kiss her, but he didn’t think she would like if he did that in front of Kakashi.

Kakashi quickly and quietly disappeared. Madara had to give him credit; he was a good opponent, a good sensei (it seemed), and good at knowing when to exit.

Once he was out of sight, Madara draped his arm around Sakura’s shoulders and pulled her against his side. She practically melted against him, sagging with the weight of her day. He kissed the top of her head as he walked her back toward her apartment.

“You’ve been crying,” he murmured into her hair.

“One of my patients died today,” she explained, tentatively prodding at the bags under her eyes. “He was old and he had a chronic illness. There wasn’t anything I could do.”

Madara didn’t know what to say so he kissed the top of her head again and rubbed her arm affectionately. Working at the hospital, she probably dealt with deaths like these all the time. Didn’t it weight on her? She was far too compassionate a person to handle something like that so frequently.

“I was rooting for you, you know,” she said, tilting her face to look up at him. Her cheek brushed against his chest. He could feel her warm breath and felt more alive than he ever had with her tucked under his arm.

“I know,” he said, unable to contain his grin. “That must be why I won.”

Sakura returned his grin. “Liar. I was watching you.”

“For how long?” he demanded.

‘’Long enough to see you win and lose some,” she said teasingly.

Not liking the direction of the conversation, Madara glanced away from her but clutched tighter around her shoulders. “Were you able to set up a meeting with the council?”

Sakura went rigid under his arm. She ducked her head so he couldn’t see her face. “Well, the thing is…” She sighed and rubbed at her brow. “Tsunade-sama didn’t tell the council about you being here. Word will probably spread soon, and they will definitely not be happy about us welcoming you into the village.”

This was what Madara had feared to begin with – rejection from Konoha. If the council did not want him here, he supposed he understood why. But if the Hokage could recognize that he wasn’t a threat to the village, then why couldn’t the council? Maybe he could change their minds.

“Don’t worry,” Sakura said, looping her arms around his waist. “I think I know another way to get the information you want. If the massacre was some sort of conspiracy, the council isn’t going to tell Madara Uchiha about it.”

She reached up and tugged on his collar, leaning up on her tiptoes. With an amused smirk, Madara obliged her by bending down and kissing her.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” she said, her eyes sparkling with heat. “Now let’s go get something to eat.”

///


	35. Chapter 35

Sakura stopped by a sushi restaurant to pick up food for them to eat once they returned to her apartment. She promised to go shopping later to get groceries to have around the place, but this only made Madara feel a stab of guilt. He should be the one taking care of her. She had enough to worry about already.

And yet as she bustled around her kitchen, cleaning little messes and fetching things for Madara, it was clear that she fretted over him in spite of all her other worries. Her food sat untouched on her side of the table as she busied herself with the sort of domestic tasks that she shouldn’t have had to worry about after a long day at work.

“Sunflower, please come sit down,” Madara urged, catching her wrist as she flew past him with a watering can to attend to the plants on the windowsill. “You can do all of that later. You need to eat.”

“I’ll be too tired to do it later,” she said, gently pulling her arm from his grasp. “After you eat, I need to take a look at your head. I don’t want to fall behind on my research.”

Madara stood up and chased her to the window, catching her arm and pulling the watering can from her grasp. She huffed in annoyance, but her body couldn’t resist leaning into the warmth and comfort his chest provided her. Satisfied with her response, even if she wasn’t so in control of it, Madara set the watering can down on the windowsill and guided Sakura back toward the kitchen table.

“Then let me do it,” Madara insisted, pushing her down into her chair. She stared up at him while he held onto her shoulders to keep her sitting. He didn’t trust that she wouldn’t get up again.

“I can’t ask you to help me with this stuff,” Sakura said dismissively, though she stayed rooted in her seat.

“You don’t have to ask,” Madara said, sweeping her hair to one side of her neck so he could press a tender kiss to her throat. “It worries me that you work so hard. Your chakra is so low and you’ve only been back in Konoha for one day. Do you drain yourself like this on a daily basis?”

She averted her gaze. “It’s just been a trying day.”

“Then forget about the research for now,” Madara begged, crouching down beside her. Her gaze came back to him, warm but a little unsure. He smiled reassuringly, his hand still cupping the back of her neck. “Let me clean all this up for you. Just relax and eat your dinner.”

To Madara’s pure horror, Sakura looked as if she were going to burst into tears. Confused, Madara shifted himself a little closer, brushing his thumb soothingly across her soft skin.

“How are you such an angel?” she asked, reaching up to touch his cheek. Her fingers scraped along his jaw, teasing the stubble there. Madara caught her hand and held her palm against his face.

“I think that’s my line.”

She grinned at that, which made Madara grin, too. He closed the distance between them and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Eat,” he commanded softly, rising back up to his feet. “Let me take care of everything else.”

Obediently, Sakura reached for her container of sushi and began to eat. Madara dropped a kiss on the top of her head and then set about cleaning up her apartment. He watered her plants and dusted her shelves. He picked up the clutter that had collected in various places and hidden it away in drawers and cabinets.

And when Sakura had finished eating, he collected their dirtied dishes and washed them while Sakura made her way to the bathroom to freshen up.

She emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of tiny spandex shorts and a fitted tank top. Her wet hair hung loose around her shoulders and she looked rejuvenated by the hot water.

Water dripped from her hair onto the carpet as she made her way over to Madara, who stood at the sink drying dishes.

“You know we could have conserved water if you had joined me,” she teased, much to Madara’s pleasure and surprise. He dropped the plate onto the drying rack and deftly lifted Sakura up by her waist to sit beside it on the counter.

“As much as I would have loved that,” he began, kissing the back of her hand with reverence, “you’re clearly far too exhausted. We need to get you into bed.”

Sakura pouted adorably, prompting Madara to steal another quick kiss from her lips. “It’s not that late yet,” she murmured against his mouth, tangling her fingers in his hair to hold him close. “Let me take a look at your head. Please.”

Madara frowned. Her apartment was cleaned. She was fed and bathed. Her chakra was still low, but it would replenish once she had slept a healthy amount.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his forehead pressed against hers.

“Of course I’m sure,” she said, her legs wrapping around his waist. “You’re the most important thing in my life right now. I’m going to make time for you everyday, whether you like it or not.”

Madara’s breath hitched. It was hard to tell whether she meant him as a person or him as a research project. He knew what he hoped, but he didn’t have the fortitude to put it into words.

“You’re only saying that because I cleaned your apartment,” he whispered, not trusting his voice entirely.

“No,” Sakura laughed. “Because you are the only person on earth who makes me feel like I’m falling and flying at the same time.”

Unable to help himself, Madara captured her lips with his again. He settled his hands beneath her ass and hoisted her up against him. “Don’t say things like that,” he said, pressing his face against her cheek. He peppered her with kisses while she clung to him, her delicate hands exploring his broad back and shoulders.

“Why not?” she asked in a whisper, squeezing her legs a little tighter around him. “Isn’t that what you want?”

She nipped gently at his earlobe, her breath warm against his neck. He groaned, his fingers curling tightly against her ass. “I’m selfish,” he hissed. “I want all of you.” He kissed her mouth again, his lips lingering against hers even once he’d pulled away to catch his breath. “I can’t settle for anything less.”

Sakura seemed amused by this, her gaze warm and sultry. “Then don’t,” she said.

It suddenly felt like he could feel her everywhere. She was pressed warmly against him, but it wasn’t just the places where their skin touched that Madara felt liquid fire erupt over him. It whirled through his stomach like a hurricane sluicing down his veins and prickling in his brain.

“Sakura…” he murmured, unsure how to voice what he felt like she needed to hear. Did she realize what she was saying to him?

“You mean Sunflower,” she corrected, nudging his nose with hers. “Or baby.”

She was grinning, but Madara was too caught up to return it. “Baby,” he said softly, palms sliding around the curve of her ass and up to her waist. He clung to her, shifting her up a little higher.

“I’m selfish, too, you know,” Sakura said, her lips brushing over his jaw. “I don’t want to send you back to your time.”

He sighed, gripping her waist with near bruising force. “I don’t want to leave you behind,” he confessed.

“Then stay.”

 

His heart constricted in his chest. He could hear the same desperation in his voice that he felt in his bones every time he thought of having to let Sakura go. He couldn’t. And apparently neither could she.

“Please,” she said, and he almost caved and conceded to her right then.

“I have to protect Izuna,” he whispered, his fingers too tight against her waist. He could feel her ribs protesting his vice-grip.

Sakura let out a dejected sigh, her body melting. Her head fell forward and she slumped against him, her chest pressed flushed against is. He held her like that for a moment, running his fingers up and down her spine, delighting in the tiny shivers he managed to illicit.

“You’re going to fall in love with me,” Sakura said, her voice so soft he could barely hear it. He knew that her prediction had already come to pass, but he contented himself with stroking her back instead of telling her that he already, unequivocally loved her.

“I think I’m already falling for you,” she continued, burying her face in his neck. The sheer intimacy of it made Madara’s blood pump faster.

He threaded his fingers through her damp hair and used it to pull her back so he could see her face. He hated to see that her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

“You’re exhausted, baby,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. He began to walk them toward her bedroom, nudging the door open with his toe. “Let’s just go to bed. You can worry about your research tomorrow.”

But even as he spoke the words he could already feel Sakura’s chakra seeping into his brain. He couldn’t even tell from where, though their bodies were pressed to intimately together that he figured it must have come from everywhere, which was a feat he didn’t even realize was possible.

He walked over to the bed while Sakura worked her magic on the cloud of darkness that was parsing its way through his head. He stood holding her over the mattress, her chakra too good to let go of just yet.

“Was Kakashi-sensei nice to you or were you just in good control of your emotions today?” she asked, her face nuzzled against his shoulder. 

He lowered her to the bed and hovered over her, hands braced on either side of her head. “What do you mean?”

“Did you ask him about his eye?”

Madara fought back a grin as he remembered that this was a story Sakura hadn’t heard before.

“He offered to tell me,” he replied, moving to straddle her hips with his knees.

“Oh.”

“You didn’t send him after me with the intention of riling me up, did you?” he asked, leaning down close to her so that his hair created a curtain of privacy around their faces.

Her fingers came up to his temples, lingering affectionately as she funneled chakra through his head. The corner of her mouth was quirked in a half grin, and Madara resisted the urge to bend down further and kiss her.

“No,” she answered. “I thought you could use the exercise. Any negative feelings he may have caused would have a been a bonus.”

“A bonus?” he asked incredulously, though he couldn’t contain his grin either.

She hummed with pleasure, wriggling beneath him. Her chakra felt icy and sharp in his head. He felt more aware of it than usual.

“I know it’s silly,” she began, her fingers trailing down the sides of his face to his jaw. Her chakra was still everywhere, but it was harder to focus on now that she was looking up at him with tenderness and affection. “But I like being the one to take your pain away. I like making you feel better.”

It had occurred to Madara many times before that perhaps his attraction toward her had more to do with what she was capable of rather than her as a person. The notion was entirely dismissible, even though he did love that she was capable of so many handy things. It was hard not to wonder whether or not he’d feel the same way toward her had she not been able to help with the darkness in his head. Maybe the curse would otherwise have gotten the best of him.

Sasuke had succumbed to it, and Madara before that. It was hard to disentangle these facts from one another. Love wasn’t so keen on facts, and Madara didn’t have a full enough grasp on his emotions to think anything beyond what was clearly love that he felt for Sakura. It couldn’t be anything else.

“You were going to send your sensei to annoy me just so you could make me feel better?” he asked, his eyes dancing with amusement.

Sakura’s eyes slid shut and her lower lip caught between her teeth. Her chakra swelled in his head, particularly around his eyes where it felt sharp and almost painful. Madara winced, but held still lest he break Sakura’s concentration.

But her concentration was broken anyway when a loud pounding echoed from the living room.

Sakura’s chakra disappeared suddenly, her body going rigid. She cursed.

“Forehead, open this door up right now!”

Sakura looked up at Madara apologetically, her hands dropping back down to her sides. With a groan of irritation, Madara rolled away from her. She leapt up from the bed, eager to answer the door and stop Ino’s incessant pounding.

Madara followed her to the door, his Sharingan whirling dangerously. It didn’t seem to phase Ino one bit as Sakura swung the door open. Her angry blue eyes darted first to Sakura and then to Madara before she pushed past them and made her way into Sakura’s kitchen.

She gestured to the empty sushi containers in the trash. “So, umm, I’m guessing you forgot about dinner today,” she snapped, her hands braced on her hips.

Madara bristled.

“Oh, god, Ino, I’m sorry,” Sakura gushed. “I totally forgot. I’ve been so busy—”

“Too busy for your best friend?”

“I’ve only been back in Konoha for—”

“For long enough to ditch your plans with me for this…” Her voice trailed away as she looked back at Madara. He could see the curiosity plain on her face, and of course he knew why she’d wanted to have dinner with Sakura so badly.

“I’m afraid the fault lies with me, Ino,” Madara explained. “If you’re going to yell at someone, it should be me. Sakura’s had an exhausting day.”

Sakura and Ino both blinked at him as if he’d sprouted another head. Ino turned to look at Sakura and Madara sorely wished he could understand the look that passed between them.

“I’ll get the wine,” Ino said, already shuffling through Sakura’s kitchen.

“I’ll take care of him,” Sakura said, her hands curling around Madara’s forearms as she guided him back into the bedroom.

“Usually I’d like the sound of that,” Madara said, allowing her to steer him down the hall, “but I sense that you’re trying to get rid of me.”

She shoved him into her bedroom and then clicked the door shut behind her. “The last thing I want is to be rid of you,” she said. “That’s exactly what I’ll tell her, too.”

“So you want me to just sit in your bedroom while you go out there and talk about me?” he demanded.

Sakura grinned and pushed him closer to the bed. She hooked her foot on the wood frame of her bed and used it to lift herself up to kiss him. “We’re only going to talk about how handsome and charming you are,” she explained. “Ino doesn’t care about the curse or your eyes.”

“But you’re so tired, baby,” he insisted, lowering them both to sit on the mattress. “You really ought to be going to sleep.”

Something about that made Sakura giggle. “I’ve never had anyone fuss over me like this before,” she said. Madara gave her a disapproving glare, and her expression softened. “We’re just going to talk and catch up,” she said, linking her fingers through his. “It’ll be good for me. I’ve missed her. And when I’m done, I’ll come back here and crawl into bed next to you.”

Madara wasn’t really comforted by this, though he felt pretty selfish for wanting Ino to leave immediately so that he could have his Sunflower back. Part of him understood that she would need this time with her friends because he had every intentions of taking her home with him when the time came, and he knew she wouldn’t be able to see them after that.

“Okay,” he conceded, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “I’m definitely going to listen in, though.”

She grinned. “I had a feeling you might.”

///

Madara reclined back against Sakura’s pillow, his ears perked up so he could hear the conversation going on in the living room. As much as he was annoyed by having been interrupted right before he was about to go to sleep, he couldn’t help but feel a little thrilled by what he hoped to hear. It wouldn’t be so bad to listen to Sakura talk about him for a while.

Sakura and Ino exchanged pleasantries. For a while they discussed what had been going on in the village while Sakura had been away. Madara listened to that with a detached interest. Most of what Ino said bordered on gossip rather than news, but Sakura seemed interested anyway. He could hear her chime-like laughter ringing through air and it made him grin.

Eventually, their conversation got juicy.

“So you and the anomaly seem pretty cozy,” Ino said.

“You have no idea,” Sakura replied. Madara grinned wider at that.

“Umm, okay, that’s all well and good, but how do you think Sasuke is going to feel when he finds out you’ve been fooling around with one of his ancestors?” Ino asked.

“Sasuke’s never cared about my feelings, so I don’t see why I should care about his,” Sakura said. Madara could practically see the spark in her eyes if he closed his.

“Well, that didn’t stop you from caring about his feelings for the last, like, ten years,” Ino argued. 

Through the thin walls, Madara heard Sakura’s heavy sigh. “I still do care, it’s just not the same,” she explained. “I love Sasuke so much, but after spending so much time with Madara, I don’t think I could ever be with him.”

This was news to Madara, who was elated to hear Sakura say something like that. Madara hadn’t been under any kind of impression that Sakura was over Sasuke yet, in spite of how adamant she seemed to want to be.

“So if he marched back into Konoha right now, walked right up to you, and asked you to marry him and help him restore his clan, you’d say no?” Ino asked, disbelief plain in her muffled voice.

Sakura’s laughter pealed out like a bell. “Sasuke would never do something like that,” she said. “That’s precisely why I couldn’t be with him. You can’t even imagine what Madara is like by comparison.”

A hush fell over the apartment. Madara strained to hear their tittering whispers, feeling a stab of irritation when they both burst into excited giggles.

“Does Tsunade-sama know he’s living with you?”

“He’s not officially living with me,” Sakura replied. “It’s temporary until he finds another place or we figure out how to get him home.”

“Can you figure out how to get him home?” Ino asked.

Another stretch of silence filled the apartment. Madara’s chest felt tight. He realized that Sakura didn’t share in his optimism about getting back to his time.

“I don’t know,” Sakura finally said. “It seemed scientifically impossible at first, but I think there might be a larger force at play here. Honestly, I’m hoping my research on his curse sheds some light on that.”

“What has the curse got to do with anything?” Ino asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” was Sakura’s quick reply. “I think it might have something to do with the moon, or a really elaborate genjutsu. There might be a—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Ino interrupted. “I don’t care about that stuff. Is he a good kisser? Have you had sex? How big is his dick?”

Madara sat up and moved a little closer to the wall that sat between him and the couch he knew the two of them were sitting on. He heard more giggling, which irked him but he didn’t want to miss anything Sakura said so he stuffed down that feeling, ignoring the cloud of darkness that was forming in his head.

“You know I don’t have anything to compare him to,” Sakura explained.

“Oh, come on,” Ino insisted. “You’d still know whether he was good or bad. You had sex with him, didn’t you? I can see it on your face.”

“He’s good,” Sakura said vaguely, and Madara could almost picture the smirk on her face. “Really good.”

Ino squealed loudly enough that Madara winced and shrank back away from the wall. He heard Sakura’s immediately shushing and reclaimed his position against the wall.

“Spill it,” Ino demanded. “I want every detail.”

“Don’t be a pervert.” Madara chuckled quietly at that.

“Are you kidding me?” Ino asked. “You’ve got the hottest Uchiha in existence wrapped around your finger, and you’re not even going to tell me what kind of ethereal experience it is to fuck him?”

Madara would have given anything to see Sakura’s face then. There were a lot of things to unpack in that one sentence – most of which made Madara’s head swell.

“We haven’t had sex yet.”

“Yet!” Ino exclaimed, and Madara smiled in total agreement with her. “You want to? Does he want to? He does. Of course he does. Look at you.”

Madara couldn’t help but smile at that, and a little of his irritation with the blonde kunoichi dissipated. She seemed like a good, if a little demanding, friend to Sakura.

“Having sex is an emotional thing,” Sakura explained. “Madara’s emotions are heightened, and he doesn’t have great control over them. I don’t want to have sex with him until I’m sure that the results won’t be catastrophic to his mental health. Any effect it might have on his curse is something I need to be wary of.”

“Mmhmm,” Ino drawled. “And what about you? You’ve never had sex before. What about your mental state?”

Another beat of silence.

“This isn’t really about me,” Sakura said, but Madara couldn’t disagree more.

“Of course it is, you fool,” Ino replied, earning more approval from Madara by the second. “Your research isn’t just a means to an end. You love him.”

Madara’s breath caught in his throat. Sakura knew he was listening, so would she deny it? Or would she own up to it?

“I don’t know about that,” Sakura admitted. “I just know that I need to be careful with him.”

“He’s listening, isn’t it?”

There was a commotion on the other side of the wall, followed by some angry whispering. Madara listened intently for a moment, but was unsure of exactly what was going on on the other side of the wall.

And then he could no longer hear their voices. He felt both chakra signatures still in the apartment, but it seemed that they had found a quieter way to communicate, much to Madara’s displeasure.

Ino squealed, and then both of them burst into stifled giggles. Madara rolled his eyes. He got up to his feet and crept to the door silently.

If they thought he wasn’t able to hear them, he didn’t feel the need to remind them overtly that he was one of the most powerful shinobi of his time. Two gossiping girls couldn’t escape him that easily.

He cast a genjutsu over himself – the same one he’d used to sneak into Sakura’s bathroom before. Invisible to the naked eye, he strutted into the living room and found Sakura and Ino huddled together in the far corner near the window.

They faced the night sky, tittering in each other’s ear. Ino said something particularly salacious, and in response Sakura’s entire face turned tomato-red.

Madara crept even closer so he could hear their hushed exchange.

“If you like him so much, then what are you worried about?” Ino demanded in a whisper. “Just go for it. He clearly wants you.”

“It’s complicated,” Sakura replied. “He wouldn’t stay here with me if he has a chance to go back to save his brother.”

“Who says he’ll even have that chance?” Ino asked. “He could be stuck here for eternity with you.”

Sakura swallowed and glanced over her shoulder. For a moment it felt as though she were looking right into Madara’s eyes. His heart stuttered in his chest before he realized she was looking through him.

“If he realized that, he’d go into mourning for his brother,” Sakura said, and Madara had to strain to hear her even standing so close. “That alone could trigger his Mangekyou, but if it doesn’t, it’ll still worsen the curse. He’ll be in so much pain, and not the kind that I can fix. Being stuck here would be the worst thing for him. It would ruin any chance I have of awakening his Mangekyou painlessly, and probably the rest of my research as well.”

Ino glared fiercely at her. “That’s not even in your control,” she snapped. “If he is stuck here, then you will be his greatest comfort. Are you just scared? What’s the problem?”

Sakura glared back, but Ino didn’t seem perturbed by it. “There are a million things that could go wrong and a million different things standing in our way,” Sakura snapped. “And it’s not like I’ve even been properly resisting him. He’s been greeting me with kisses for fuck’s sake. And sleeping in my bed!”

“Why on earth would you resist that?” Ino asked. “I mean if you don’t want him, let me have—”

“No.”

The fire in her voice made Madara grin, even in spite of the somber nature of their conversation. These were all things he’d thought of before, but he supposed he had failed to see Sakura’s side of things correctly. As far as she was concerned, he was a cruel, time-traveling anomaly that would blip into and out of her life like a bolt of lightning. She had no intention of going back in time with him, nor any clue that Madara was planning for that.

She was afraid to fall in too deep because she thought he would disappear.

And then if he didn’t, she’d be burdened with his inevitable relapse and descent into pure misery. It would be like Sasuke all over again.

Madara felt a sharp stab of guilt in his gut. Sakura’s face fell as she gazed through the window. She looked ethereal bathed in moonlight, and it made him realize that she was too perfect, too angelic to be spying on like this.

Filled with shame, Madara quietly made his way back into the bedroom and slipped beneath the covers. He could no longer hear giggles from the other room, but he could feel both of their chakra signatures – comforting presences while he tried to drift off to sleep.

He inhaled the strong scent of Sakura that lingered on her pillows – mint and cucumber and citrus – and closed his eyes.

///


	36. Chapter 36

Madara’s eyes were closed when Sakura finally ambled back into her bedroom several hours later. He opened them when she creaked the door open, watching as she slipped underneath the covers beside him.

She sighed softly as she settled her head against the pillow. She was facing away from him, and Madara wasn’t sure whether or not he should touch her. He longed to pull her body flush against his, to curl around her and fall asleep like that. He could feel how tense and rigid she was even without touching her.

“Sakura?”

Slowly, she rolled over to face him. Her expression was unreadable and he wished for once that he knew how to seep his chakra into her brain and understand everything she was thinking. She lifted her fingers to his brow. He felt her flush of chakra.

He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. He wished he knew how to ease her mind, but he was afraid anything he said would only make things worse. Even just touching her seemed like a bad idea, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go of her hand.

“You are something special, Mada-kun,” she said.

His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt a magnetic pull between their bodies. With one arm he scooped her against his side, palming her head to hold it against his chest where he knew she could hear his thundering heartbeat.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he murmured softly.

She nuzzled against his chest. He felt the brush of her lashes against his chest, and then the cadence of her breath slowed. Once Madara was certain she had fallen asleep, he shut his eyes, too.

///

Sakura was gone when Madara woke up. He groped blindly on her side of the bed, his disappointment immeasurable when he found no heat there. Groggily, he got up to his feet. He should have felt it the moment Sakura stirred, but for some reason his sleep had been far deeper than it usually was.

Presuming that Sakura had gone to the hospital for her shift, Madara made his way to her kitchen to scrounge up some breakfast.

She had given him a lot to think about last night. While he had been pursuing her and falling for her, it had never once occurred to him to put himself in her shoes and understand why she was so hesitant to be anything less than professional with him. It wasn’t because of Sasuke like he had previously assumed. It was because she was afraid of the uncertainty.

Madara couldn’t describe why he was so certain he was right about his predictions of a ‘future’ with Sakura. He felt in the very marrow of his bones so sure that everything in his vision would come to pass. He’d find a way to get back home, and save Izuna. He’d bring Sakura back with him, and together they would prevent the fall of the Uchiha clan.

But that didn’t mean Sakura was wrong to feel so unsure. It was Madara’s responsibility to allay her fears, and that meant he needed to make quicker progress with his work in the Uchiha archives.

As he poured himself a cup of tea, he made a mental note to also find a way to stock her kitchen with groceries. They couldn’t eat takeout every day. With a frustrated sigh he realized this meant he’d have to find some money as well. He couldn’t just ask Sakura for money when she was already doing so much for him.

Hopefully he’d be able to find some stashed away somewhere in the Uchiha compound.

///

As Madara continued reading where he left off in the Uchiha archives, he found that there were some things he couldn’t understand. Many of the words on the pages puzzled him. Sometimes the strings of sentences seemed to make no sense altogether.

These strange little blurbs were spattered amongst the Uchiha clan’s history, and it made Madara uneasy as he read.

Eventually he realized that some of this was because he hadn’t awakened his Mangekyou. Remembering what Sakura had said about her research last night, it seemed that was out of the question for now. Unfortunately, that meant he would need Sasuke’s help to see what he was missing.

With a resigned sigh, he shut his current tome and made his way back to the Uchiha shrine. He stared for a moment, dust floating weightlessly through the air around him. Everything about this place gave him the chills. The air seemed to sear his skin and stick in his lungs.

The shrine’s secrets must have something to do with the mysterious circumstances of his arrival here. The only other place he could think to turn was the moon.

But he was grateful that the moon hadn’t made another appearance since its last one. It often left devastation in its wake, and Madara had yet to understand the reason for this.

If the moon was guiding him somewhere, all roads pointed to Sakura. So now that he’d found her, what was he supposed to do?

This thought frustrated him, and he began to feel that pull of darkness in his head again. He sat back on his heels, dusting off his dirty hands. The air was balmy on the front porch of the main house, and the breeze felt good against his hot skin.

He’d managed to find a decent amount of money stashed away in what he presumed had been Sasuke’s parents’ room. He imagined he’d find more if he scoured the rest of the compound, but he’d found enough to buy Sakura some groceries and that was plenty for now.

Madara marked his place in the archives and locked up the Uchiha compound. This time as he left, he felt the need to place some protection seals around the place. Now that he was here, he felt responsible for it. He didn’t want people to come snooping through here again, especially if his presence here might renew some dormant curiosity people had about the Uchiha clan.

Once he’d finished, he started making his way toward the market. After he’d found groceries, he could make lunch and bring it to Sakura at the hospital. Then he’d have plenty of time in the afternoon to try to figure out the whole Mangekyou problem.

He had only just made it to the market when a familiar presence sidled up beside him, peering into the cart of mangoes Madara had stopped beside.

“Hungry, are you?”

Madara turned to look at Sakura’s sensei, annoyed that all of his face but his non-Sharingan eye was covered.

“Kakashi-san,” Madara said curtly, but politely.

“Sakura sent me to fetch you,” Kakashi said almost apologetically. “If you’re hungry, though, I’m sure she’ll take you to the cafeteria.”

Madara raised a confused brow. “You run errands for your student?”

“There are a great many things Sakura asks of me that I must say no to,” Kakashi said. “When she asks for something so easy, I feel I must oblige her.”

This only confused him further. “What does she ask of you?”

“For starters, she asked me to fetch you,” Kakashi said, his impatience growing. “Something about her research. I suppose she scheduled time for it today. That girl’s always busy with something, isn’t she? Now she’ll be mad if we get her schedule off kilter, so we’d better get going.”

Madara gritted his teeth, but leapt after Kakashi anyway.

///

Kakashi brought Madara directly to Sakura’s office, and then without a word to either of them, he left and shut the door brusquely behind him.

His hasty exit made Madara suspicious, but before he could question Sakura about it, he noticed that she was about to pop a food pill into her mouth. He dashed across the room and caught her arm, using his free hand to snatch away the food pill.

“You are not eating a food pill for lunch,” he said sternly.

“I don’t have time for anything else today,” she said, pulling her arm out of his grasp. “I need to get started, so if you could take a seat… please?”

Madara took a look around her office for the first time, a little shocked to see its luxury. It was nothing like her apartment, which was tidy, but small and rather minimal if he didn’t count the multitude of plants.

But her office looked far more like what the Uchiha compound had probably looked like before its decay. He was standing on a soft, handmade carpet of silk and cotton, surrounded by tall shelves brimming with leather bound, gold-lettered medical tomes. Her desk contained a glossy ebony plaque with her name embossed: Haruno-sensei. Behind her hung a certification of some kind, flanked by a couple of medals on one side and a large, gleaming window on the other. It overlooked a courtyard and a greenhouse – the same one he’d seen before but from a different angle.

Wordlessly, Madara took a seat in one of the plush leather chairs that were nestled beside her desk. From his seat he had a direct view of the window until Sakura sat in the seat beside him.

He stared at her for a moment, clutching her food pill in his fist. There was still a sort of tension between them. He couldn’t ease her mind just yet; he didn’t know how. There wasn’t much he could do, but his heart ached at the sight of her all backlit by the noon sun.

She reached for his hand and uncurled his fist. She shook her head when it revealed the mashed food pill inside. Her eyes darted up to his, a little admonishing but still amused. She took a tissue from the tiny table between their chairs and cleaned his hand with it.

“Mada-kun, for this part of my research I need to ask you some rather probing questions,” she said, dropping the tissue onto the table and then fisting her hands at her sides. “This conversation will probably be uncomfortable,” she said, and already she was avoiding eye contact with him, “but I need you to be honest, regardless of how you think I will react to the answers.”

He reached for her hand, a small gesture to reassure her. He could be honest with her, if that was all that was required of him for now.

“Of course,” he said, threading his fingers through hers. “I’ll always be honest with you.”

The resulting, stunned flutter of her lashes was enough to break a grin across Madara’s face. Remembering he had not kissed her yet, he leaned across the distance between them and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat with a charming sort of fluster, “I thought about maybe having Tsunade-sama conduct this interview so that your answers would be less influenced by my presence, but I didn’t want to include her in… in these particular parts of the research.”

Madara knew Sakura was sharing her research with the Hokage, but he hadn’t realized she’d been keeping parts of it from her.

“Why?” he asked.

Her cheeks grew past the adorable stage of a flustered flush well into the full ripeness of a summer tomato.

“That will become obvious as I ask the questions.” She cleared her throat again. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

Curiosity piqued, Madara nodded.

“These questions are designed to help me understand what you feel both physically and emotionally when you are experiencing certain symptoms related to you curse,” she explained. “At the risk of sounding vain, I understand that you associate a good many positive emotions with me, so a lot of these questions will have answers that you might not instinctively want to share with me. You will also likely have lots of memories of your brother or your family or friends and girlfriends that you feel uncomfortable telling me about, but all of it is to help me get a better understanding of what I need to do to awaken your Mangekyou, okay?”

He nodded again eagerly. He would do anything to awake his Mangekyou, and honesty was of no cost at all to him, at least where Sakura was concerned.

“First I’d like to clarify something,” she said. “From my understanding, the headaches, the darkness you feel, it’s always present, correct? I mean unless I’ve literally just cleared it away. It comes back and it doesn’t go away on its own, right?”

Madara nodded again.

“Okay,” she said, reaching for a notebook and pencil from her desk. “Describe what you experience when the darkness is at its worst.”

He blinked, remembering all the times the pain had ever felt sharp and overwhelming.

“I’m usually feeling angry,” he said, “or afraid. Anytime the moon does something odd, the fear is very acute. When I think of Tobirama killing Izuna… when I thought Sasuke was going to hurt you.”

“Physically, what does is feel like?” she pressed.

“Like pressure against my skull,” he explained. “It starts off dull, but the longer the emotion simmers, the more the pressure builds.”

Sakura leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Madara did the same, bringing their faces closer together. “Does the pressure ever explode?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I mean other than the time you said it literally exploded, no,” he said. “Sometimes it does feel like my skull has cracked, though. The pain goes from throbbing and dull to excruciating and sharp.”

“When did you feel this?”

Madara closed his eyes, struggling to remember. It either had something to do with Sakura or the moon, but they were so closely entwined in his mind that it was hard to tell.

“I can’t remember,” he said. “Probably when I found the moon particularly frustrating.”

Sakura frowned. She scribbled something down in her journal, angling it so Madara could not see.

“And the moments when you hardly notice the pain,” she continued. “I know it can be difficult to scrounge up memories of the absence of something, but if you can remember what was going on at the times when the pain was nearly unnoticeable, that would be helpful.”

This took even less time to decipher. It was easiest to forget the pain when there was pleasure to focus on instead.

He reached for her hand. She dropped her pencil and let him press her hand against his chest. “Anytime your hands are on me,” he said, dragging her hand down the plane of his chest. “Anytime I hear your laugh.”

“Madara, this is serious.”

He leaned across the short distance between them. “I’ve already agreed to be completely honest with you, Sunflower,” he murmured lowly to her. “If my answers make you uncomfortable, perhaps you should let Tsunade-chan conduct the interview.”

She scoffed derisively, her face flushed. “Your honesty sounds a lot like flirting.”

“There are a lot of truths I could tell you that would make you blush,” he teased, “but you’re the one asking the questions, so you can decide which ones might have an answer you don’t want to hear.”

“The intent of this research is to help me understand what positive emotions will be most efficient in awakening your Mangekyou,” Sakura explained, cheeks blazing with heat. “Is there a positive emotion that you feel as strongly as you do rage?”

That was an interesting question that he’d never really thought of before. His rage always felt like the strongest emotion, possibly because of the pain it brought to his head. It was so much easier to notice a physical sensation along with the emotion, but did that mean that the feeling was actually stronger?

He thought of the other emotions that often plagued him – sadness, jealousy, fear. All of them brought to mind the very vivid sensation of pain.

But other emotions – happiness, contentedness, affection. There was no physical sensation to those, at least not one he could quantify. Of course he felt pleasure every time Sakura kissed him, felt the sensation of her touch, the satisfaction of sexual contact. But this was isolated to sexual scenarios.

Was there a pleasurable sensation associated with other positive emotions?

“I don’t know,” Madara finally said. “Feeling something positive will usually lessen the amount of pain I feel, if I’m feeling any at all, but there isn’t a physical sensation attached to those feelings. The pain is what makes the negative emotions feel so strong.”

Sakura frowned. She tapped her pencil eraser on her notebook, her eyes glued to her lap. Her silence made Madara nervous. He wondered if his answer somehow made her research harder.

After a moment, she scribbling something down in her notebook and then returned her attention to him.

“What are some emotions that you associate with you brother?” she asked.

“Izuna?” Madara asked in surprise. “Lately when I think of him I feel sad. I miss him and I wish I could be there to protect him.”

Sakura glanced up from her notebook to give him a sympathetic look.

“But it’s usually good things,” he continued. “I guess joy, predominantly. The few times I can recall feeling pure joy are my memories of him – playing with him when we were just children, bonding with him as we got older. Thinking of him makes me think of camaraderie and family.”

A faint smile stretched across Sakura’s lips, and he felt a little burst of joy right then, glad to have caught that beautiful, fleeting little grin.

“What about Hashirama?” she pressed.

Madara blinked, and then he shrugged. “The same, I guess. I don’t really associate any negative feelings with him,” he explained. “Sometimes I feel angry or bitter that we are on opposite sides of war, but for the most part he makes me think good, positive things.”

Sakura scribbled away in her notebook, lower lip caught between her teeth.

“And sunshine,” Madara added, the thought flying from his mouth before he could censor it. “He reminds me of the sun. Like you do.”

This seemed to catch her off guard. She glanced up at him with wide, curious eyes. He nearly laughed at her pleased expression, though it disappeared just as quickly as it had come. He almost laughed again at the comical way she schooled her face into something neutral.

“What other feelings do you associate with me?” she asked, her pencil poised.

“With you?” he said, feeling an uncontainable grin spread across his face. “Only good things. The best things.”

“Could you be more specific?” she asked, her cheeks adorably flushed in spite of her professional demeanor.

“All the best combinations of lust and affection and admiration,” Madara explained, carefully watching the spread of blood beneath her skin. First her face flooded, then her ears, then her chest. “I always feel rather content when I think of you, at least now I do.”

Her expression faltered. “That’s right,” she said. “You told me once that you associated the darkness in your head with me. Is this just because of my part in helping you handle it?”

He shook his head. “No,” he answered. “Knowing that you preferred Sasuke to me… that caused me pain. The jealousy, I mean.”

“I don’t prefer—” She cut herself off, blinking to clear her head. She coughed into her arm, her gaze anywhere but on him. “Do you still feel jealous of him now?” she amended, her tone clinical and dry.

“No.”

She raised a brow, her gaze finally coming back to him. “Not even a little bit?” she asked, and if Madara didn’t know any better, he might think she wanted him to be jealous.

“No,” he repeated.

Sakura nodded, scribbling down more notes. Madara thought he noticed the corners of her mouth tilted up in a smile, but he could have been imagining it. Once she had finished with what she was writing, she snapped the notebook shut and set it down on the table between them.

“One more question,” she said, her cheeks still pleasantly warm. “There is no physical sensation in your head when you feel pleasure like when you feel pain. To me, that seems to indicate that your curse is all in your negative emotions, your pain. Your kekkei genkai, however is not directly linked to the negative.”

Madara narrowed his eyes, not sure that he was following. “So what’s your question?”

She looked down into her lap bashfully, avoiding looking up into his face. “I believe that intense emotion is required to unlock your kekkei genkai,” she explained. “I also believe that physical sensation is required. I’m just not convinced that it has to be pain.”

“But my curse doesn’t give me pleasure,” Madara said.

“No, but there are other ways to feel pleasure,” she said, her cheeks so red he worried she might spontaneously combust. “If you were feeling a particularly powerful emotion, a positive one, and then you… were to engage in something pleasurable… I think it might awaken your Mangekyou.”

Her plan all seemed to click into place. Her embarrassment made sudden, perfect sense.

“This is just a theory of yours?” he asked, wondering if this was all speculation on her part or if she had something more concrete to show as evidence for this claim.

“A strong theory,” she explained, finding the nerve to look up at him again. “Looking at scans of your brain and the scans we had archived of your deceased clan members, it seems that the combination of physical and emotional pain causes a reaction in the nerves in your eye.”

Madara frowned. “You think you can replicate this effect by having me feel emotional and physical pleasure at the same time?”

“Not just any pleasure,” she explained. “Obviously you understand that the intensity of your emotion plays a part. That means it probably won’t work if I just tell you how handsome you are and then suck your dick.”

“Well, we won’t know until we try,” Madara teased.

“I’m not going to screw this up by letting my own emotions get the best of me, do you understand, Madara?” she asked, her voice almost frantic.

Madara stood up from his chair and extended a hand to her. Hesitantly, she looked up at his face and then placed her hand in his. He pulled her up to her feet and then crushed her in a tight embrace.

“My beautiful Sunflower,” he murmured, tangling his fingers in her hair. “So professional, so ambitious. We spend so much time going over my emotions that we never talk about yours.”

“We don’t need to talk about mine,” she insisted. “It’s not relevant—”

He cut her off with a kiss, fingers tightening in her hair. She melted against him immediately, and Madara smiled into the kiss, beyond pleased with the way her body reacted to him so easily.

“Of course it’s relevant,” he argued. “Do you think what you feel doesn’t effect me, too? I hate it when you’re sad or upset or hurt.”

She lingered in his arms, looking up at him with those stunning eyes of hers – a veritable nymph, a creature so lovely that he mused just looking at her for long enough should awaken his Mangekyou.

Her body pitched into his, her face colliding with his chest. Her felt the weight of her entirely fall upon him, so he lifted her up into his arms as if she were a child. Her head fell against his shoulder, and he peered down at her with concern.

“Are you alright, baby?” he asked, brushing her hair out of her face with gentle fingers. “What’s the matter?”

To his horror, she began to cry. “I can’t think of a way to do this that won’t end with you getting hurt,” she said, her words chopped up by intermittent sobs.

Madara winced, realizing exactly where her thought process had led her. 

“I won’t,” he said, because the only thing that could hurt him now was leaving Sakura behind, and he would absolutely not do that. “I promise, baby. You just keep working on your research. Don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I worry about you!” she screeched. Madara almost dropped her, caught off guard by her loud outburst. “You’re going to fall in love with me, and it’s—”

“Sakura, I am already so deeply in love with you that—”

Her loud sob broke him off before he could finish the sentence and he felt a sudden swell of darkness in his head. Maybe this wasn’t going to work out exactly like he thought.

“That what?” she demanded. “That you’d be okay living the rest of your life here with me? That you’re fine with never seeing me again if you manage to find a way to get back home?”

Darkness throbbed against his skull, dull and pounding. He could feel that dark cloud swiftly filling his head, seeping into his grey matter. What could he say to her that would comfort her now?

“I’m not so fragile that I can’t handle normal human emotions, Sakura,” he said, cradling her against his chest. He tucked her head under his chin as she continued to cry. If she needed to cry for cathartic reasons, he’d allow it even if it made his head swim with pain.

“I know, but I just want you to be happy.”

She would never be able to understand how much it broke his heart to hear her say things like that. In spite of how heavy it made his heart feel, he could feel it chip away at the cloud of darkness in his head.

///


	37. Chapter 37

When Madara left Sakura’s office, dread sluiced through his whole body. He didn’t feel right leaving her alone when she was clearly in such bad shape, but she insisted that she had more work today and would hear no talk of taking the rest of the day off.

This left Madara to his own devices again. He knew he should head back to the Uchiha compound and finish his sweep of the archives, but there was another pressing matter he needed to attend to first, and that was Sakura’s kitchen.

He found his way back to the market, the weight of his conversation with Sakura heavy on his heart. He hated to see her so upset, especially for his sake. In the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d actually be able to convince Sakura to come with him. He thought that if he could make her love him, that the choice would be easy for her.

Only it seemed a lot like she already did love him, and it was eating her up inside.

These thoughts left Madara feeling pretty bitter as he picked through the fruits and vegetables in the market stalls. His head was brimming with the dark cloud, and for some sick reason he had the urge to cry. He could count on one hand the amount of times in his life he’d felt compelled to cry.

But seeing Sakura cry like that… what was the word she had used? Cathartic. She’d said she felt better after a good cry. Maybe he would, too.

Nah, he thought to himself as he bagged a couple of ripe tomatoes. He just needed to punch something.

“Don’t get her tomatoes.”

A delicate hand snatched his bag of tomatoes away and dumped them back into the cart. Bewildered, Madara stared down at the tiny blonde girl who’d just upended his produce.

“Tomatoes remind her of Sasuke because they’re his favorite,” Ino said, pointedly ignoring his heated glare. “Do you want to remind her of Sasuke?”

Madara blinked.

“Why do you care if she’s reminded of Sasuke or not?” he demanded. 

“Because she’s my best friend and I want her to happy,” Ino snapped. She was wearing civilian clothes today, and something about her fiery attitude clashed with the little purple dress she was wearing. “Sasuke has done nothing but make her miserable, but you seem like, I don’t know, like you actually care about her.”

“Do I?” Madara asked dryly.

“I’ll help you pick out what to get,” she said. “I know all of her favorites. Skip the tomatoes. Let’s go look for fruits. She likes watermelon and mangoes. Oh, and we should pick out some fresh fish.”

“I don’t need your help grocery shopping, Ino.”

Her resulting glare reminded him entirely too much of Sakura. “Listen, sweetie, I know everything about Sakura there is to know. Don’t pretend like you aren’t going to need my help with her at some point.”

A flurry of violent thoughts invaded his head. He really needed to punch something, and she was standing so goddamn close.

“Look,” Ino said, seeing the look of doubt on his face. “My family owns a flower shop. I know her favorite flowers. After you get her groceries, stop by my shop and I’ll help you pick out some flowers for her.”

That wasn’t the worst idea Madara had ever heard, but he couldn’t help but be confused about Ino’s motives.

“I know her favorite flower,” Madara said tersely.

“Oh, yeah? What is it?”

Abruptly, Madara took a step toward her and palmed her shoulder with a heavy hand. “What are you doing, Ino?” he demanded. “Are you trying to sabotage this for Sakura?”

“Of course not,” she snapped, flinging his arm away. “I’m trying to make sure you do right by her. You think I want to pick up all the pieces of her after you’ve shattered her heart?”

“You think that you can prevent that by helping me pick out flowers?”

“I think you should let me help you woo her,” Ino said, her voice a little more determined now. “You’re the only man she’s shown an interest in other than Sasuke, and I want to make sure she gets the romance and sex she deserves from you.”

Madara scoffed, narrowly avoiding the blush that threatened to bloom in his cheeks. It was clear now that Ino’s motives were entirely focused on getting Sakura laid. While that wasn’t Madara’s ultimate goal, he could appreciate that they at least aligned on this one issue.

“Neither Sakura nor I need your help with that,” Madara said, “but I like that she has you as a friend. I can see that you really care about her. I’ll stop by your flower shop when I’m done here.”

Ino crossed her arms, but sighed with resignation. Madara resumed his shopping, paying her no attention even as she followed him from cart to cart.

She continued to pester him with questions, but Madara had nothing else to say to her and he feared that the growing darkness in his head might cause him to lash out at her, and he needed to control his tongue better than that.

Eventually, she got the hint and left.

So Madara spent every last coin he’d gathered on the best looking groceries he could find and then made his way back to Sakura’s apartment where he put them all away and then tidied things up so everything would be nice for her when she came back home.

And since he wasn’t quite sure what to do about the Mangekyou problem yet, he resigned himself to heading up to Ino’s flower shop.

Her shop was small but quaint on the inside. The floral scent that filled the air almost made him cough as he entered, but he had to admit that there was an innate beauty to all the blooms that filled every square inch of space. It was like an explosion of soft petals and bright colors.

“Ah, Madara-san,” Ino said as the chiming bell announced his arrival. She pulled a basket of flowers from beneath the counter she stood at and beckoned for him to come closer. “I’ve picked out a bunch of flowers Sakura likes so that you can arrange your own bouquet for her.”

Madara creased his brow, staring into the basket of flowers. “There are no sunflowers,” he said.

“She doesn’t like sunflowers.”

Annoyed, he looked up at her face. She was staring at him expectantly, and he supposed he had no reason to be angry with her. She wouldn’t know anything about his affectionate nickname for Sakura. She was just trying to help, after all, though Madara was still unsure that Ino knew better than he did on some of these issues.

Flowers, for instance.

In the basket, nestled in white tissue paper, were a handful of carefully cut blooms – carnations, lilies, tulips, and roses in all different colors.

“Sunflowers are her favorite,” Madara countered. “Do you have any?”

Ino shook her head. “They really aren’t, man,” she said. “Just trust me.”

“You think you know her so well?” Madara demanded. “You think I haven’t already figured out how Sakura ticks? You realize she and I get along quite well without your help, right?”

“And you’ll get along even better with it.”

Madara glared at her, pushing the basket back across the counter toward her. “Just get me some damn sunflowers,” he insisted. “As many as you have.”

“Fine,” she snapped, though she didn’t look in the slightest bit pleased with the turn of events. “But don’t come crying back to me if all she can muster up for you is a terse grimace when she sees them.”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his broad chest. In truth he was irritated that he still had so much to learn about Sakura, even if he did happen to have the upper hand in this situation.

Maybe there were some ways that Ino could help him.

///

He returned to Sakura’s apartment with a massive bouquet of sunflowers. Easily two dozens of them were bursting in full bloom from the wicker basket Ino had arranged them in for him. He had to hand it to her that she did make a beautiful arrangement.

The walk back to her apartment was a strange one. He drew more attention that usual with the cumbersome basket of flowers he carried, and the sun beat down on him with unnatural heat.

By the time he’d made it to her front door, he felt a bit sluggish. Unnerved by the feeling, Madara wiped his brow with the back of his hand and looked up at the sky.

He blinked against the brightness, peering up into the cloudless sky. Something was wrong. Something was missing.

Shaking those thoughts from his head (because this kind of unease never led to anything good), Madara whirled back to face her door.

It was then that he saw the moon in the sky, hanging at his eye level near the horizon. It seemed impossibly small, so Madara activated his Sharingan to see it better. It looked nearly transparent in the sky, and he wondered how he’d even managed to catch sight of it at all.

The longer he stared, the larger is seemed to grow. He blinked, trying to dispel the vision. He was torn between wanting to stare at it and wanted to disappear inside Sakura’s apartment. The moon never did anything good to him, except for bringing him to Sakura. He didn’t trust it now, and he wasn’t sure he ready for whatever it might have in store for him.

Yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. It loomed bigger and bigger in the sky until nearly every speck of blue was gone. Nothing but the silvery roundness was left in the sky, and to Madara’s horror, he could see faces in every crater.

His eyes darted frantically from face to face. Izuna’s was there. Hashirama’s was there. His parents, his other brothers, and even Sakura were all up there, staring down at him with empty, expressionless faces.

Unnerved, Madara fumbled with the key Sakura had given him. Just as he slipped the key into the lock, a flash of light blinded him.

Pain erupted in his head, lashing like waves of fire against his temples, behind his eyes. The burning sensation made him grit his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut, though it made little difference. He swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling his legs wobbling beneath him.

He tried to look back up at the moon, to see if it was trying to tell him something. The moment he opened his eyes, darkness filled his head so thickly that he could swear it was pouring from his eyes and nose. He could feel it hot and sticky, running down into the collar of his shirt before he realized that it was blood.

That probably wasn’t a good sign. He dropped the basket of flowers in favor of clutching at his temples. The pain was growing sharper and sharper and the urge to vomit was fighting its way up his throat.

This was suspiciously reminiscent of when his brain had ‘exploded,’ and he didn’t want that to happen again, but he had no clue how to prevent it. It was all he could do to remain standing.

But even that became too much for him when the pain hit critical peak and Madara collapsed into a heap on Sakura’s front porch.

///

Madara’s mouth tasted sour when he woke up. He groaned hoarsely and tried to pull himself up into a sitting position when a pair of hands pushed him back down.

“He’s awake,” he heard a familiar voice say. “Go get Sakura.”

He blinked his eyes open to find Tsunade sitting beside him on his bed. He was back in the hospital, the same room he had been in before.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” she said, her mouth drawn in a grim line. “Do I have permission to take a look at your head?”

Madara shook his head, nearly throwing up as the motion made nausea burble up in his chest. “Did my brain explode?”

“Is that what it felt like?” she asked, “Because I certainly don’t have an explanation for it. I’m hoping that Sakura will.”

A flurry of footsteps clattered down the hall. Tsunade and Madara both glanced toward the door, equally unsurprised when Sakura’s pink head popped up.

“Madara?” she asked breathlessly, rushing to his side. “You saw the moon again, didn’t you?”

He nodded, his hands finding their way to her waist and tugging her gently toward his lap. She resisted him only slightly, leaning her weight against him as she funneled her chakra into his temples. He sighed in relief when her cooling chakra dissipated the thick darkness that had swelled inside his head.

“Your head looks okay now,” she said, brushing his hair out of his face. Her expression was one of utter pain and horror, and if Tsunade hadn’t been in the room with them he would have pulled her into the bed with him and never let go of her again.

“All of his grey matter is completely repaired?” Tsunade asked. Sakura turned to face her, and Madara didn’t miss the way her face went rigid as she turned to give her master her best approximation of what had actually happened.

Madara barely understood what she was saying. He didn’t even care; he just wanted to have his Mangekyou so that he could figure out the secrets of the Uchiha shrine, get himself back home, and take Sakura with him. He’d had enough of being here in Konoha, enough of this life without his brother.

He shut his eyes and leaned back against the pillow. Sakura and Tsunade fell silent and then he felt Sakura’s cool fingertips on his cheek.

“We have to figure this out soon,” said Tsunade. “I’m sure all this collapsing and darkness and brain mushiness is going to have an adverse affect on his mental health. How is your research coming?”

“In theory I think I know what to do to awaken his Mangekyou,” Sakura explained, “but I have no idea what to make of all this collapsing. Sasuke isn’t afflicted with this, so I don’t know that it’s even a part of the curse. Madara isn’t as far along as Sasuke is, so it makes no sense.”

Madara opened his eyes again and settled them on Tsunade. “I think it’s a warning,” he explained to her, though he had no real basis for believing this other than sheer instinct. “I’ve been here too long. I need to go back home.”

“Any ideas on how to get there?” Tsunade asked sharply.

Sakura shot her master an irritated look and Madara reached for her hand so he could lace their fingers together. “Not yet,” he replied. “I’m working on it.”

“Really?” Tsunade asked dryly. “Do you think the answer somehow involves a couple dozen sunflowers?”

A giggle burst from Sakura’s lips, and the sound was like a breath of fresh air in the stuffy sobriety that filled the hospital room.

“I can’t have him passing out all over Konoha,” Tsunade said to Sakura, giving her a disapproving glare. She then turned her cold gaze to Madara. “The two of you need to figure this out if you’re not going to let me help.”

She stood up, her glare expounding in Madara’s unimpressed stoicism. Did she think he wanted to be here away from his brother?

“Don’t give me that look,” Tsunade said to him. “I’m sure whatever force brought you here didn’t do it so you could flirt with my pupil.”

“You don’t know that,” Madara argued, but instantly felt foolish for the petulant words.

Tsunade narrowed her eyes. “Come find me if there is any kind of new development,” she said to Sakura. With that, she stood up and left the room, closing the door behind her with unnecessary zeal.

With her gone, Sakura’s rigidity melted away and she sank down against his chest with a sigh. “Do you know horrible it was to see you lifeless and crumpled up like a ragdoll on my front porch?” she demanded, her weight heavy against his chest. “The only consolation was the bed of sunflowers I found you in, and honestly that just made me even sadder.”

He pushed at her shoulders so that she would back up enough for him to see her face. She didn’t look like she had been crying, but it was hard to tell with her sometimes.

“You were the one who found me?” he asked, feeling a stab of guilt. He wasn’t sure how he would feel if he had found a lifeless Sakura crumpled up like a ragdoll somewhere.

“Your chakra signature just disappeared,” she said. “I was on my way to an appointment and you just… I don’t know. I got really scared. I thought you were at the Uchiha compound so I went there first, but I couldn’t get inside.”

Another stab of guilt lanced him. “I put protection seals around it,” he explained. “If you come back there with me, I’ll make sure you can get through them.”

She buried her face in his chest again. “Did the moon give you another vision?” she asked, and Madara could tell that she was restraining a sob. He brought his hand to her back, smoothing it over her shoulder and spine.

In spite of how much he hated that she was upset, he couldn’t help but wonder if this kind of reaction from her meant that she loved him. The thought made him smile. His whole body warmed and he tightened his arm around her.

“I saw something,” he admitted. “I think it was telling me I’m ready to go home. Or nearly ready.”

Shudders rolled down her spine under his touch.

“How can you tell? What did you see?”

He shook his head, unwilling to explain her face among the rest of his loved ones and friends in the moon. She wouldn’t see it for the prophecy that it was.

///

Sakura walked Madara home from the hospital with his arm draped over her shoulder. He didn’t really need her assistance, but it felt good to be close to her. Her side was pressed warmly against his, and the easy way she braced his weight against her was comforting.

The sky had darkened since Madara had last been outside. Sparkling stars speckled the inky sky, and the first bite of a fall breeze was in the air.

“How long was I out?” Madara asked.

“Only a few hours this time,” Sakura replied, helping him up the steps to her apartment. The porch was no longer littered with sunflowers, though a few yellow petals lingered on the ground. “And thank god for that because I couldn’t concentrate on anything but you. Shizune-san wouldn’t even let me stay at the hospital. She made me go home.”

They stepped inside her apartment and she flicked on the lights. Madara smiled when he saw a vase filled with slightly crushed sunflowers. Even the ones with few petals left were arranged neatly in the vase with the rest of them.

“You got the flowers I sent you,” he joked, fingering the soft petals. He plucked one from the vase – a pitiful stem with a single petal left attached. “Did you really need to save this one?” he asked, holding it aloft.

Sakura rushed to pull it from his grasp and put it carefully back in the vase. “That one’s my favorite,” she said. “It worked the hardest to cushion your fall.”

The words were uttered with the same casual cadence as she might have used to describe the weather or order a hot tea, but they instantly reminded Madara of something Hashirama would say to a girl. That a girl would say something like that to him was so absurd it made him laugh.

His laughter made Sakura smile and she leaned back against the counter, looking up at him with those brilliant, glimmering eyes of hers. “Thank you for the sunflowers,” she said, leaning up to kiss him. He didn’t lean down for her, so she settled for kissing the hollow of his throat. “Assuming they were meant for me.”

She settled back against the counter and crossed her arms. Her eyes didn’t have their usual fire in them, though that didn’t keep them from mesmerizing Madara until he felt compelled to lean down just enough to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

“Thank you for the groceries, too,” she said, hooking her fingers into his shirt to pull him even closer. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It seemed like you needed some help,” he said. “You work so hard you barely take care of yourself.”

“That’s not true,” she said defensively, her eyes bursting with that fire he had missed so much

“It is true,” he argued, reaching up to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb across her soft skin. “But it doesn’t matter because I’m going to take care of you.”

“Oh, you are?” she asked, her eyes crinkling with mirth.

It seemed a terrible waste not to kiss her right then, so in lieu of an answer, he curved his neck down and tilted her chin up and pressed his lips to hers. She responded more fervently than he had expected, deepening the kiss and throwing her arms around his neck.

He lifted her up, gripping her ass so she could wrap her legs around his waist. Her face buried itself in his neck, pressing warm kisses against his already heated skin. Madara’s heart raced when her fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt and skittered up his bare back.

Her touch ignited him immediately, a bursting, exploding arousal that lit him up from the inside out.

“I guess we’re not trying to be professional anymore,” Madara breathed, clutching at the back of her head as she continued to pepper him with kisses.

She thrust her hips forward, pressing her warm, damp heat against his stomach, her heels digging into his flesh. “Fuck being professional,” she murmured against his skin. “You are so sweet. I don’t deserve you.”

A crease formed between his brows. “You deserve whatever you want,” he said, clinging to her with a strange desperation that made him feel a little uneasy. “I’ll stop at nothing until you have it.”

Bubbling, nearly hysteric laughter burst from her like a musical explosion. “I want to suck your dick,” she said, pulling away from his neck to kiss his mouth. “I want to make you feel good.”

Madara’s grip on her faltered, but she managed to hold herself up against him. He pulled back to look at her, confused about her sudden, yet completely welcome new desire.

“Are you alright?” he asked, squeezing her ass to lift her higher against him. 

She reached for a handful of his hair and tugged him back into a rough kiss. “I’m not alright,” she said. “Just the thought of having to let you go one day makes me want to pull you close and never let go. I know I can’t be that selfish with you, but I just want you so badly.”

Madara was too stunned to say anything to that, so he settled for sliding his hands up to her waist, curling them around the small of her back, and sliding them up and down her rocky spine.

Her lips fell back down to his neck and lavished kisses there and across his jaw before she nipped gently at his earlobe. His sadness was whisked away. He could think of nothing but the sinful way her tongue laved over him and the feminine heat pressed against his stomach.

“Sakura,” he practically purred, sliding his hands around to her chest so he could cup her breasts. Her pleasured sigh into his ear made his knees buckle.

“Take your pants off,” she commanded, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear. Her breath sent shivers down his spine.

Obediently, he reached underneath her for the button of his pants. He fumbled with it until it was undone and shoved his pants down around his knees, carefully holding Sakura aloft.

Growing impatient now that his attention had diverted to his pants, and his erection that had sprung free, Sakura climbed down to her feet and slipped her hand into his.

“Shirt, too,” she said as he stepped out of his pants. Never one to disobey a direct order, Madara complied, lifting his shirt up over his head.

Being completely naked in front of Sakura was truly an experience like no other. Something about the way her eyes devoured him made him feel like the most powerful man in the world. His erection was throbbing and angry, hanging in the air between them.

Sakura’s gaze swept over him, her eyes dark and mischievous. He felt all at once hot and cold and smoldering with desire for her.

She tugged on his hands, leading him toward the sofa in her living room. When she pushed him toward it, Madara obligingly sank down into the cushions, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Can I?”

“What?” Madara asked, bewildered.

“Can I suck you off?”

His eyes dipped down to her plump lips, watching raptly when her pink tongue darted out to lick them.

“Please?”

He nodded eagerly, the ability to form words just beyond his reach. A moment later, a head of pink hair was between his knees, wide emerald eyes blinking up at him. She gripped his erection and a sigh whooshed from Madara’s body.

“I know I’m your Sunflower or whatever,” she said, and Madara dragged his eyes from her mouth to meet her gaze, “but I’m not fragile, okay? I’m a kunoichi, and I can heal myself from the inside. So you can be as rough as you want.”

A chuckle escaped him. “You want me to be rough?”

She gave him a squeeze and smiled at him. “Only if you want to,” she said. “Especially if you want to.”

The erection in her hand grew harder and the pressure of her cool fingers made him want to buck his hips. There wasn’t much time to deliberate on what he actually wanted before Sakura was drawing his length slowly into her mouth.

He sank heavily into warm pleasure, his eyes falling shut, head falling back against the sofa. Her wet lips and pliant tongue gave him far too much sensation as she took his entire length all the way into her mouth and to the back of her throat.

Momentary alarm was instantly muted when Sakura hummed and filled his bones with heat and pleasure. He opened his eyes to look at her. He was speechless at the sight of her on her knees, completely swallowing him. He was damn near brain dead when she began to bob her head up and down.

Madara had been on the receiving end of this kind of attention before, and from what he remembered of it, every lady had needed to pause to breath at some point.

Sakura seemed to manage just fine without breathing. She swallowed him over and over, humming and swirling her tongue. Madara was weightless under her touch, his head foggy, bones jelly. When he had chanced glances down at her, she was always looking up at him, her eyes searching his face.

Looking at her was almost too much. It felt so wrong for her once trembling pink lips to be doing this to him. A flash of guilt ripped through him; he brushed his thumb across Sakura’s nose and the smattering of light freckles there, remembering how innocent she had been to these things before.

Then he felt prickles of chakra, first in his erection but then swiftly they swooped into his stomach, lighting up the already tense coil of heat inside him. The nerves in his body suddenly felt on fire, and he gaped down at the fragile Sunflower who had done this to him.

Mirth was in her eyes this time, and the combination of the silky feel of her mouth and her sexy, smirking eyes made him lose that last bit of hesitancy.

He threaded his fingers into her hair close to her scalp and gripped her head. She wasn’t fragile, he reminded himself as he pushed her head down. She moaned, and with a delighted and perverse shiver he realized that her fingers were dipped beneath the hem of her dress, pressed against her center. She looked up at him as she teased both him and herself, and Madara’s mind went completely blank.

It was hard enough to focus on anything but the sharp, wicked currents of arousal that sparked goosebumps all over him and made the blood in his veins feel icy and on fire at the same time. Somewhere in the back of his addled mind, he wondered how his sweet, innocent little Sunflower could be lascivious in ways he’d thought only paid whores to be.

But that thought only lingered for a few seconds because the culmination of Sakura’s bobbing and swallowing, humming and groaning was pulling him to his peak. Waves of heat and arousal lapped at him like waves on the shore, cresting almost violently.

His fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her up and down to match his growing, frenzied pace. This was never something he imagined doing to someone he loved; even now he felt an irrational gush of guilt sluice through him. Sakura, in her victimized part of the violent act, seemed to enjoy his lack of control. Sharingan activated, it was hard to miss the raw desire in her eyes.

It made him climb even higher to an impossible new level of pleasure – a sweeping, shuddering wave of molten arousal that lobbed itself against him with a mind-numbing, toe-curling intensity.

He came in her mouth, gripping her skull tightly and burying himself as deep into her throat as he could go. He rode the stuttered pulses of his orgasm, giving himself over to the feeling, floating on the incredible high she had given him.

“Sakura,” he groaned, his head lolling back as she released him from her mouth. He watched the bob of her throat as she swallowed his seed.

She stood up and moved to straddle his naked waist, her eyes narrow slits of green determination. He already felt himself growing hard beneath her again, even in her current state of dress.

Madara reached up to tug at the buttons of her white medic’s coat before she slipped it from her arms and tossed it onto the floor.

“You scared the shit out of me today,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss his neck. He’d grown to love the way she fit her face in the curve of his neck, and the way it made her body stretch fully against his, her breasts pressed to his torso, legs hooked around his thighs. “It reminded me of how easily I could lose you,” she continued, her hands frantically exploring his chest, his shoulders, his arms.

The silky feel of her fingers all over him quickly drew her arousal back up and he began to fumble with the clasp on her modest red dress.

He wanted to say something to comfort her, but even in a lucid state, he wouldn’t have been able to come up with the right words to say. Luckily, his touches seemed to be enough. Sakura helped him with the clasp and lifted herself up just long enough for Madara to pull the dress up over her head and toss it to the floor with her coat.

In just her bra and panties, she was a perfect goddess, perched like a siren over his lap. His eyes roved her marble skin, fingers trailing the silky smoothness of it. Could he ever tire of her beautiful body?

“I want you to fuck me,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at his face. The words, crass as they were, made something inside him snap, something animalistic and raw.

She didn’t want him to make love to her, though in all of his imagining of how he might deflower her, he never considered doing anything but just that. She’d already disproved her own fragility, though, and her words were sparking something dormant in him to life.

“Please,” she begged, and he dug his fingers into her hips, pinning her body down against his.

He craned his neck to kiss her mouth, not a chaste one. Their lewd swirling of tongues made him abandon his grip on her hips in favor of cradling her neck and holding her sweet mouth to his. He could taste his own saltiness on her lips and it set fire to him.

But the one lingering shadow of doubt in his mind still tainted his pleasure.

“Why?” he asked. “Why like this?”

She froze, her mouth still against his, and then sucked in a deep breath. Madara felt the air pulled from his own lungs and gasped, letting go of her so she could pull away.

“You were a flirt and a tease, but you always respected my rules and you never pressured me into anything I didn’t want to do,” she explained, her voice a little breathless. Madara was hypnotized by the half-smile on her lips. 

“You showed remarkable restraint, even when I was teasing and flirting back,” she continued. “But I could lose you at any moment, so I just want to know what it’s like to be with someone who wants me so badly. What it’s like to be with you.”

Madara blinked incredulously at her, not sure he understood exactly what she was implying.

“Please,” she said again when he was silent, his fingers frozen against her neck.

The word had its intended affect. Madara’s body was already strung so tightly with arousal, even so soon after his orgasm.

If that was what his Sunflower really wanted, he had no intention of denying her.

///


	38. Chapter 38

Blood was roaring in Madara’s ears when he scooped Sakura up into his arms and brought her back to her bedroom. Sakura was desperately attacking him with kisses and frenzied touches, her legs wrapped so tightly around his waist that he was sure her heels would leave bruises on his back.

He could do little else but cling to her as she lavished him with attention, all teeth and tongue and lips and pleasured sighs. He kicked her bedroom door shut and tossed her onto the bed, moving quickly to cover her body with his.

Heat cloyed between them, their bodies slick with sweat in the swelter of her tiny apartment. Madara grazed his touch over her thighs, curling his body around hers as she bowed hers up into him. Using his hips, he pressed her back against the mattress, bracing his upper body with his hands beside her head so he could pepper kisses along her neck, her collarbone and chest, and the tops of her breasts that were revealed just above the fabric of her bra.

Sakura’s fingers slipped through his hair, holding her face against her chest. He felt her shuddering sighs and the army of goosebumps that rose along her skin. He smirked against her heated skin, and reached for her wrists.

With one quick motion, her gathered both her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head.

She stared up at him expectantly, but he was captured by her beauty for long enough that he felt it necessary to pause and drink her in. Her pink tresses were splayed like a halo around her head, her eyes smoldering and filled with such a unique desire for him.

Madara considered his fortune that he was a handsome man, that he’d never had trouble seducing any women. None of those women, however, in all of their lust for him, had ever looked at him the way Sakura was looking at him now. He’d never felt this kind of attractive to someone, never felt like it was possible to be desired in such a way.

She looked as though she wanted to eat him, to claim him, to do possessive and dirty things to him. Her gaze was like liquid fire, pouring over him until he was drowning and burning and being swallowed in the collapsing weight of his own lust for her.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured, kissing her forehead with an out-of-place tenderness.

Sakura tugged at her wrists in a half-hearted attempt to free them. Her eyebrows cinched together in a scowl and she bucked her hips. “Kiss me,” she demanded, her tone too sharp for her lecherous command. “On the mouth,” she clarified, as if suddenly worried he might chastely kiss her forehead again.

He grinned and obediently kissed her on the mouth. He was becoming accustomed to the lewd, but insanely erotic way she kissed him, all open mouths and wandering tongues. She struggled against the hold he had on her wrists as he kissed her, but he wouldn’t relent. He knew she didn’t want him to.

“You are so fucking hot,” she muttered against his mouth, arching her back to seek precious skin-on-skin contact. With a growl, he used his free hand to grip her face in his hand, covering her mouth with his palm.

His knees tightened around her hips so that she could no longer buck into him and lance what little self-control he had left. He was ready to toss it aside for the moment, but there was something he needed to do first.

“I won’t disappear on you,” he said, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in his stomach at the feeling of Sakura’s lips moving against his palm. “I’m not going to abandon you. I—”

A jolt of chakra electrified his body. He yelped, drawing back away from her. With her hands free, Sakura showed little restraint. She reached straight for his waning erection, rejuvenating it with her dexterous fingers.

“Sakura, wait—”

“I don’t want to wait,” she said, shaking her head, rolling her hips up again. He could feel the damp fabric of her panties against him and his thoughts became less coherent. “I want you inside me,” she said. “Now.”

The thin fabric of her lacey bra strained against her swollen breasts with every breath she heaved. Madara forgot why he had wanted her to wait, everything he had meant to say to her. She didn’t seem to need those reassurances.

So Madara reached for the glinting clasp between her breasts and unhooked her bra, releasing her glorious breasts, revealing the way her nipples had hardened into stiff, pink peaks. Without a shred of the hesitancy he’d found himself lost in a moment ago, Madara bent down to press kisses to her freshly exposed skin.

He claimed a nipple in his mouth, relishing in the way Sakura moaned and arched beneath him. She writhed as he sucked gently and then flicked her delicately with his tongue.

She mewled, her noises elevated in pitch and cutting straight through to Madara’s core. She cupped her other breast, rolling her thumb over the nipple. Madara snatched her hand and brought it to his chest. She took the hint and splayed her hand over his skin, teasing and exploring with desperate touches.

Fondling her breasts seemed to really excite her; Madara could barely breath while she used one hand to keep his head pressed against her bosom.

Her hips grinded against him. He could feel the soaking heat of her womanhood pressed against his abdomen, and as he sucked and kneaded her breasts, she began to move her hips against him rhythmically. She pressed herself against him with wanton delight, her fingers tight in his scalp.

The way she grinded herself against his stomach would inevitably lead to her release if she kept her pace, maybe even Madara’s as well if she managed to situation herself just a little lower against him.

But he couldn’t deny her what she had asked for, and she seemed perilously close to losing her own control. Masculine pride swelled in him; she was so worked up because of him. Not because of Sasuke or because of those dirty books she read.

He tugged roughly on one of her nipples, coaxing a sharp yelp of pleasure from her. She bucked her hips into him again and he felt his erection growing harder and harder until it grazed against the salacious curve of her ass.

He slipped his fingers in the elastic of her panties and yanked them down to her knees.

A choice made by the both of them, he was going to fuck her. Part of him had wanted this the moment he had laid eyes on her on the cliffside, absorbed in her dirty book. He’d wanted it at every sensual brush of her lips, every glittering smile she so carelessly tossed in his direction. Did she know how feverishly he desired her?

No, she couldn’t, he thought as he trailed his fingertips from her shoulder down to her hips. She had no idea of the storm she unleashed in his veins.

“My fragile little Sunflower,” he purred, a smirk settling on his face.

“I’m not fragile,” she snapped, but her aggression only stoked the nascent fire in his chest.

He lifted her back and slid his hand underneath her, pressing his palm against the small of her back. “Are you sure?” he teased, pressing fluttering, searing kisses to her neck and cheek and lips.

“Positive.”

He used the hand underneath her to swiftly flip her over onto her stomach. She squealed, bracing her elbows against the mattress.

The expanse of her back was smooth and flawless – a perfect canvas for him to leave his love marks on. He traced his fingers reverently over her beautiful skin, grinning when she charmingly shuddered under his ministrations. He bent down to kiss her between the shoulder blades, laughing against her skin when she hissed and squeezed her fists in the sheets.

Madara scooped one arm beneath her, pulling her up just enough so that her back was flush against his chest, the contact delicate but electrifying. His erection brushed against her soft thighs and he knew he was moments away from losing all control.

He reached between her legs for the sensitive bundle of nerves and groaned when Sakura pushed back against him, pressing herself into his near painful erection. She was already soaking wet, he noted with nothing but prideful pleasure. She’d been wet as she sucked him off on the sofa earlier, and just the thought that she was so turned on made him swallow hard.

“Please, Madara,” she begged, and he needed no further encouragement than his name so desperately uttered like that.

He grabbed his dick with one hand, palming Sakura’s ass and pushing her forward so he could set his gaze on the most private part of her. With his thumb, he stroked the glistening slit there, growling lowly when Sakura began to tremble against him. He leaned his body forward, curving his head down to whisper in her ear.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” he said, brushing his lips over the shell of her ear. She shivered.

“Okay,” she said, pushing her hips back again.

Amused by her tenacity, Madara spread her apart with his thumb and placed the head of his erection against her opening.

Silky, swallowing heat immediately drew him into her. He had wanted to relish the feeling of sliding into her for the first time, but something in him snapped, and in one fell motion, he’d sheathed himself completely inside her.

Sakura cried out, a mixture of alarm and pleasure. Madara stilled, his palm pressed against her lower back. She was unbelievably tight around him, and he convulsed against her. It had been so long since he’d enjoyed this particular act, and he felt a fervent need to pound away and find his release in her unfairly spectacular body.

But the sounds she made, while definitely still pleasure, also had a new note in them now – discomfort.

He had yet to move, afraid she was hurt or uncomfortable. Spots formed in his vision as he tried to reconcile his desire to fuck her like she wanted and also make love to her in a way that appealed to his romantic affection for her. 

Sakura, in all her horny glory, began to move her hips, pulling and pushing herself back and forth against him. Madara groaned, lost in the sensations, mesmerized by her ass, the narrow dip of her waist, her pink, silky hair. His breath shallowed; his hand found its way to her hip, guiding her to continue riding him.

He could feel chakra around his dick – not doing anything, but there. He wondered if she was healing herself, if he was hurting her somehow, and the thought stifled his desire somewhat.

“Madara, please,” Sakura she said, her breath as shallow as his. She turned her head to peer at him over her shoulder, and when her hot, angry gaze met his, he rediscovered his lust for her.

He pulled back and thrust into her hard. She yelped, her face falling down to the pillow. With one hand, he grabbed her upper arm. With the other, he gripped her hip, thumb pressed into her ass.

And he began to pound to his heart’s content. Sakura’s chakra flared and intensified inside her body, but she was moaning with fervor now, her body pebbled with goosebumps. She was practically dripping, and Madara used this to his advantage, using his fingers to tease her clit.

The touch of his fingers against her sensitive bud made her moans pitch even higher. Madara clung more roughly to her, slamming into her over and over again.

Using her arm as leverage, he lifted her up so that they were both upright on their knees. He groaned as the silky heat around him shifted. He continued to thrust into her as he sidled his hands around her body and gripped her chin. Roughly, he turned her face toward his, craning his neck to kiss her.

It was almost impossible with their size difference, yet somehow Sakura seemed to manage to stay contorted in his hold, kissing him in that perverted way she did.

Waves of arousal were cresting again, coiling in his gut and expanding so that he felt fire everywhere in his body. His thrusts grew quicker; Sakura’s moans became sharper. She whimpered into their kiss, and her mewling sounds sent sharp pangs of arousal through his entire body.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmured against her cheek, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

He smirked when her eyes lost focus and her moans became silent pleas for release. Her walls shuddered around him and Madara’s smirk disappeared while he pounded recklessly into her, finding his own release.

Sakura’s sharp, stuttered groan echoed through the apartment. Madara’s grip on her tightened and he thrust into her over and over again until his own arousal had exploded, sparking a firework inside him that jolted him from head to toe.

He spilled his seed inside her, groaning when she milked his orgasm with pulses of chakra from inside her body. The fluttering of her walls calmed down, and slowly Madara felt his breath returning to his body.

Madara sighed, feeling the kind of contentedness in his bones that made him want to curl into a deep sleep, wrapped around Sakura’s body. She sank heavily against the mattress, sighing with her own content.

Her face was a beacon of light, a glow emanating from every one of her pores. Her smile reached down into his chest and squeezed his heart. Madara fell to the mattress beside her, his limbs rusty, eyes bleary.

Sleep might have taken him then had Sakura not flipped her body over so that it faced his. Her face was inches from his, and Madara could do nothing but stare at her, trying to memorize her beauty and the way it felt to be beside her.

Having already decided that Sakura was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, Madara had no new moment of revelation in finally having sex with her. What he felt instead was a sense that everything was finally right. Things were sliding perfectly into place.

He grinned at her, tracing her brow with the pad of his thumb. A thousand thoughts flittered through his mind, all the romantic things he could say to her, every sweet nothing he’d ever whispered in a girl’s ear. Nothing really seemed to be enough; Sakura deserved so much more than the same compliments and flirtations he’d spilled into the ears of girls who didn’t even come close to comparing to her.

“Madara,” she whispered, slipping her hand into his and twining their fingers together.

He knew almost immediately from the tone of her voice that something was on her mind.

“Sakura.”

Her eyes glimmered with mischief, and the look on her face pulled something taut inside Madara’s chest. Her grin was warm and lazy, but there was focus behind her sharp gaze, and he wasn’t sure that he would be able to handle what she might say in his current sleepy haze.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked, the corners of her mouth tilted in an adorable, shy grin.

He brushed a tendril of hair away from her eyes. “Yes, please,” he said, eager to hear any secret she’d share with him.

“I love you.”

His eyes locked onto her lips, reading them for a lie. He knew she wouldn’t lie to him about something like that, but he couldn’t control the disbelief that spread through him.

“You do?”

She nodded and pulled him into a tender, affectionate kiss. “So fucking much,” she said, fluttering her pretty lashes.

The feeling that came over him was so sudden and so targeted in his eyes that he almost cried out in shock.

Sharpness invaded his vision, casting everything around him into a state of clarity it had never been before. Colors suddenly seemed brighter – pink, most importantly, a vivacious cotton candy that nearly made his eyes burn. The stars that sparkled just beyond Sakura’s window seemed to suddenly be made of diamond. Sakura’s eyes became an ethereal green, a field of spring grass, a slab of hard malachite.

He sat up, feeling something make his bones tremble and his skin prickle.

A wave of pleasure wholly unrelated to their carnal encounter lit up his body and a heaviness he hadn’t even realized he bore lifted from his chest.

Sakura loved him, and aside from being the most incredible gift he’d received from anyone ever, it was also the first step in getting her to come back home with him.

A grin stretched across his face as Sakura reached up to his temples, cool chakra flowing from her fingertips. She was still smiling, too, her eyes curiously peering up into his. He stared down at her face, so angelic and pure against her pillow. He nestled her cheek into the fabric, staring up at him with a contented smile.

“I love you, too,” he said, bending down to kiss her forehead, his nerves taut. Had she actually done it? Had she awakened his Mangekyou?

She giggled and rolled over, reaching into her nightstand drawer. She pulled out a compact mirror, which she passed to Madara with a conceited flourish.

“Oh, I know,” she said, watching as he opened the compact to look at his new eyes.

He almost hadn’t believed it. There had been no pain, no trauma. Just a sentence from Sakura, and a blink from him. It seemed impossible, and wrong, and like he had somehow cheated to obtain this powerful doujutsu.

But when he peered into his own face, he could see plain as day that his eyes were different now. His tomoe were now inverted, spliced by a perfect circle that had three outer notches evenly spaced apart.

The compact fell from his hand onto the mattress. He swallowed and looked down at his angel.

“You were trying to do this?” he asked, wondering if this had been her gambit all along. Was this why she had been so adamant that he needed to fuck her?

“And I succeeded!” she exclaimed, sitting up so she could kiss him again. “We did it. Now I just need to figure out a way to keep that darkness out of your head permanently.”

Something in him was uneasy that she had used sex in such a way. She’d been a virgin and instead of trying to make her first time special, she’d used it to further her research.

“Madara?” she asked, and the note of fear in her voice made him realize he was scowling. He softened his expression to meet her worried gaze. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Absolutely nothing, baby,” he said, lying back down against the mattress and pulling her with him.

Sakura’s body was tense as it sank down against his, but she relaxed into the crook of his arm, resting her chin on his chest so she could look up at his face.

“I asked for the day off work tomorrow,” she said. “I wanted to spend it with you. We can spar so you can test out your new abilities.”

“On you?” he asked incredulously.

“I’m not fragile!”

He soothed her by drawing lines on the warm skin of her shoulder. “No, but you are so goddamn beautiful and I love you far too much to spar against you properly,” he said. “I have no inclination to hurt you whatsoever, and you’d easily beat me. I’d get distracted by your body.”

She frowned, and he rubbed at her lower lip with his thumb.

“You love me that much, huh?” she asked.

With a heavy sigh, he rested his cheek against the top of her head. “I know you’re worried that I’ll vanish and leave you behind,” he said. She was pure perfection, this girl who had given him love and affection, awakened his Mangekyou, and showed him what he had been missing in life. She deserved far more than he could ever give her.

“Sakura, I don’t know how to comfort you,” he said, clearing his throat a little uncomfortably. “I mean I don’t know the right words to say. I just want you to know that I do truly love you and I won’t just abandon you to go back home if that opportunity presents itself.”

Sakura froze. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Then we won’t,” he agreed, because he didn’t really want to either. “Just know that I would do anything to make you happy.”

She tilted her head up and her smile made his heart burst open. Warmth gushed through him, though he knew he ought to feel guilty for saying such a thing to her. As much as he loved Sakura, he wouldn’t dream of leaving his brother to die. He wouldn’t force her to come with him, but he couldn’t stay here with her either. He wouldn’t.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured softly, wisps of sleeping already starting to slur his words. “For the best sex I’ve ever had and for helping me unlock my doujutsu.”

He felt her puff of laughter against his chest. “And for loving you?”

“Especially for that.”

///

Madara woke in the middle of the night with an itch in his eyes. His curiosity was strong. Now that he’d awakened his Mangekyou, he longed to go back to the Uchiha compound and see what was hidden from him in the archives. Even discovering his new abilities came second to that, and the anticipation made it hard to sleep.

What if he discovered how to get back home but couldn’t convince Sakura to come with him? What if discovered that it was impossible for him to get back home and he would never see Izuna again?

Sakura’s fear began to make more and more sense to him. She was a warm lump of sleep again his side now, but would she follow him home? Would she leave her whole life here behind? Why should she? By now she probably had enough research done to cure the curse and fix Sasuke. She could let Madara go back home without her, knowing that she had a backup Uchiha in place.

Dark rage simmered in his skull though he knew this was all irrational. He knew Sakura had all of these same fears, though that did little to quell the growing darkness in his head.

She stirred, groaning sleepily. Madara reached for the blanket beside her and pulled it up around her shoulders.

“Love you so much,” she murmured in her sleep, her still swollen lips brushing against his ribs.

A gush of affection for her swept away the cloud of darkness like a burst of strong wind. He reached for her thigh and pulled her leg up over his waist, claiming her warmth as he closed his eyes.

The action stirred her again, though, and she blinked her eyes open; Madara felt the brush of them against his sensitive skin.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured apologetically, his hand sliding back and forth along her silky thigh. Her heat was pressed against him in this position, and he could feel himself growing hard again. It was becoming harder for him to control his body’s reaction to her.

When Sakura began to grind herself lazily against his hip, brushing the tip of her nose over his chest, Madara realized that she was struggling with hers as well.

Luckily for Madara, this new distraction whisked away his former dark thoughts and he could focus on nothing but the growing dampness between Sakura’s legs. He’d never known anything like this – this ability to lose himself in the woman he loved and cast aside his worries for the moment.

“Baby,” he whispered in her hair, sliding his hand between her legs to touch her swollen clit and give her the friction she was so obviously craving.

She gasped, bowing her sleep-warmed body into his. The cloying heat still between them made their skin stick together before he began to rub slow circles on her, causing her body to erupt in prickling goosebumps.

Madara smirked, pressing his cheek to the top of her head.

“This is so much better than sleep,” she murmured, the end of her sentence pitching upward as Madara brushed a particularly sensitive part of her.

There was still a sleepy heaviness to her limbs, and the lazy way she grinded herself against his hand made him feel lazy and sleepy, too. When she seemed sufficiently turned on, Madara slipped one finger inside her, relishing in the way her whole body loosed like a taut bow.

He felt her stretch around his finger, her slippery heat sucking him in even as he pulled his finger out of her. He inserted a second finger, grinning when it made Sakura moan with pleasure.

She bucked herself into his hand, riding it with aching slowness. Madara realized she was still sort of asleep and so he kept his ministrations achingly gentle, teasing her and working her up without riling her up too much.

When she came, it was softly and tenderly, and her body melted against his, heavy with sleep and pleasure. She buried her face in his chest, molding herself against him, moaning quietly as the waves of her orgasm ebbed away.

Madara slipped his fingers out of her and used them to grab onto her thigh and keep it hiked around his waist. Sakura didn’t seem to care that he was spreading her fluid over her skin and sheets, so he shifted them even further into the pocket of warmth in her bed, pulling the blanket over the both of them.

Knowing that this was what was in store for him every day for the rest of his life, Madara managed to find enough contentedness to fall asleep, even knowing he had a lot of work to do if he was going to convince Sakura to come with him.

There was just no other option.


	39. Chapter 39

Madara woke up to an empty bed again. He supposed that after waking up alone every day for his entire life he should be used it. Today, it filled him with immeasurable sadness.

The smell of sex still lingered in the air, the smell of Sakura just behind it. Groggily, he rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in her pillow.

Her scent was enough to turn him on now, and the memory of yesterday hit him full force. He grinned into the pillow, stifling the urge to touch himself.

He needed to get up and get ready to go to the Uchiha compound today. With his Mangekyou unlocked, he would have unlimited access to everything in the Uchiha archives, and this was a pressing matter that could not wait.

But then he heard the sound of water running in Sakura’s bathroom, and somewhat belatedly he realized that she had not left for work yet. In fact, with a burst of happiness, he remembered that she had taken the day off work and that he could enjoy her company every second of today.

A few moments later, she returned to her bedroom. Madara heard her shut the door softly and pad over to the bed. A rush of cool air made him hiss as Sakura lifted up the blanket and hiked her leg over the small of his back. He couldn’t help his slow grin as she straddled his back and then laid her head down between his shoulder blades.

By the feel of her skin against his, Madara surmised that she was still naked and he repressed his instinct to flip himself over to look at her.

“Look at the mighty Madara Uchiha,” Sakura teased, her voice vibrating through her chest and his. “Leader of the Uchihas, wielder of the Mangekyou Sharingan, and greatest shinobi of his time.”

Madara could not contain his smile, even when it started to make his cheeks hurt.

“How many people can say they’ve had Madara Uchiha in a position like this?” she continued, the smile apparent in her voice.

Her hands wormed their way beneath his body, clutching him in a warm embrace. He could feel her breath on his naked back and feel her hair tickling his skin.

“Wait, never mind,” she said. “I don’t want to know the answer to that.”

Her legs settled between his, her crotch pressed into the curve of his ass.

He turned his head to the side, breathing in the fresh wave of cucumber and coconut on her.

“Oh, no,” he teased back. “You sound jealous.”

She hummed pensively on top of him and he shivered. “I don’t want to think about all the women who’ve had the pleasure of touching you like this,” she purred. “I can’t begrudge them, though. Who in their right mind could keep their hands off of you?”

“Like the sun being jealous of a sunflower,” he murmured softly. As if anyone could ever come closer to outshining her.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from a man so ridiculously jealous of Sasuke,” she said with a giggle.

This annoyed him for some reason, though it felt entirely irrational.

Sensing his new tenseness, Sakura slid her body down to the mattress beside him, smoothing hair away from his face so she could see his eyes. Their noses were almost touching, but the chasm between them suddenly felt vast.

“You’re not still jealous of Sasuke, are you?” she asked, her eyes brighter than any star he had ever seen.

He gave an awkward, half-hearted shrug. “You’ve loved him for a long time,” he said. “I wouldn’t blame you for still wanting to be with him.” Even though the thought hurt like fucking hell.

She gave a sad sigh and reached up to twine their fingers together. Presented with the opportunity, Madara let his lips graze across her knuckles, relishing in her delighted shiver.

“You’ve ruined him for me, you know,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to be with him now. I couldn’t – not without thinking of you. Even if you go back home and leave me here with him, you can rest assured that I won’t be pining after him anymore.”

He kissed the back of her hand, hoping he could just imbue her with any reassurances she needed. “I’m not going to leave you, Sunflower,” he promised.

“I’m sure you didn’t plan on leaving your brother, either.”

He tried to hide how much that stung, but Sakura’s face fell anyway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered, clinging to his hand.

“I know,” he said, but he had heard the fear and accusation in her voice. She wasn’t wrong to be afraid of his sudden disappearance. In fact, Madara should have been afraid of it, too. If he wasn’t so damn certain that his entire reason for being here was to bring Sakura back with him, he probably would have been.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, using his free hand to trace the freckles on her cheek. A fire ignited in him when she leaned into his touch.

She said nothing in response, but her eyes were still sad and he absolutely hated to see that. Leaving her behind to wallow in depression left him just as miserable as leaving Izuna to die had.

“Will you come with me to the Uchiha compound today?” he asked, desperate to change the subject. “Now that I have my Mangekyou, I need to go back through the archives.”

Sakura looked surprised. “You want me to come with you while you do super secret Uchiha stuff?”

He gave her a dry look. “What secret of the Uchiha clan is safe from you?” he teased. “Besides, you’ll be an Uchiha yourself one day.”

“I will?” she asked incredulously, probably thinking of Sasuke again.

Over the somber atmosphere of the morning, Madara rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath his much larger body.

“You don’t think I’d let you slip away from me, do you?” he demanded, brushing tender kisses over her nose and forehead. “You’re going to be my wife someday, and mother to all ten of my children.”

The cherry red of her blush greeted him through the skin of her cheek, which he couldn’t help but lean down to kiss.

“Oh, is that so?” she demanded, swatting playfully at his chest. “Ten children?”

“As many as you’ll let me put inside you,” he said, shifting his attention from her cheek to her neck where his intentions began to grow more sultry. “We can start now, if you want.”

For a moment he thought she might concede, but then a timer began to ring in the kitchen and Sakura scrambled up to her feet.

Madara reached after her, disconcerted by how quickly she’d leapt out of the bed. Her warmth was already fading from his side as she reached for her bathrobe and tied it around her waist.

“Come on, Mada-kun,” she said, putting her hand in his. “I made you some breakfast.”

///

When they arrived at the Uchiha compound’s gates, Madara showed Sakura how to undo the sealed locks he had placed on it, and then used her chakra signature to make sure that she could pass through the rest of the protection seals he had placed around it.

“Is all this really necessary?” she asked. “This place has been abandoned for such a long time. If anyone wanted to snoop through here, they’d have done it by now.”

“Yes, I know,” Madara said, ushering her through the gate with a hand on the small of her back. “You and Tsunade-chan went through the archives, didn’t you?”

Sakura grumbled something under her breath and Madara was certain he heard the word ‘disrespectful’ in there somewhere.

“I’m not too worried about the archives,” he explained. “There isn’t anything that someone without a Sharingan would be able to read that would I wouldn’t them to see, but I still don’t want people traipsing through this place.”

“So I’m not really going to be able to help you then, am I?”

He gave her a wolfish grin. “Sunflower, you can’t possibly help me more than you already have. Any finger you lift to help me now would only riddle me with guilt,” he said.

“Guilt! What for?”

He stooped down to kiss the top of her head. “For taking far more than I could ever hope to repay.”

“That’s not true, Madara,” she said. “Without you, I could never have achieved what I have with my research. And I’d never have known what it’s like to have mind-blowing sex.”

“You got me there, baby,” he agreed. “No one else could have helped you with either of those.”

She grinned up at him as they walked down to the main house. Madara was a little unsure whether it was the right thing to do to bring her along with him, but he knew that she had been a crucial part of this whole endeavor for him since the beginning so it naturally made sense that she should be here for what pertinent information he might discover.

He was terribly worried that harm might befall her here, though. If the moon was a more nefarious presence than he believed, what might it do to hurt her? It was hard to forget the vision he’d had back behind the waterfall of her swollen belly and the gush of blood between her legs.

“What exactly are we looking for?” she asked as they entered the house and he led her back down to where the shrine was.

Madara gave a shrug. “I’m not exactly sure. Your Hokage gave me a rubbing of a stone tablet that related to some myth about the moon,” he explained. “There are a lot of myths and rumors about the moon and its relation to chakra, but I think the story goes that a woman was sealed into the moon by her two sons, who settled there to monitor mankind.”

“Oh, I know that story,” Sakura said. “She stole the fruit of the chakra tree, and through her two sons, we all are born with chakra now.”

He nodded, though he was sure that his version and her version of the story were probably a little different. Time had a habit of doing that to things.

“Kaguya is her name,” he replied.

“Kaguya,” she agreed. “So you think she’s the one doing all of this to you? Wouldn’t that be something? The woman responsible for spreading chakra through the world is guiding your hand.”

The Uchiha shrine loomed before them. Madara couldn’t fathom why the woman in the moon would care about the likes of him. If she truly were some ethereal moon goddess, she probably had better things to do than meddle around with time and space and Madara’s heart.

His Mangekyou began to whirl as he stared at the Uchiha shrine, hoping to glean its secrets. Beside him he felt Sakura slip her tiny hand into his, and exactly as he imagined, her presence was immensely comforting.

As he stared at the wood markings on the shrine, something in his vision began to shift. Glowing glyphs flittered about the wood. Madara flicked his gaze to Sakura to see if she noticed this, but her gaze was drawn to the shrine’s eye. The glyphs continued to morph around the wood until they resembled shape he knew quite well.

A string of hand signs was blazed into the wood above the eye, and it certainly had not been there before. Curious, Madara slipped his hand out of Sakura’s and began to perform the signs.

He felt Sakura’s penetrating gaze on him and his heart pounded in his chest as he tried to calm his breathing.

When he had completed the string of signs shown to him, the shrine’s eye began to glow brightly. Madara winced and he felt Sakura wrap herself around his arm, drawing her body close to his.

“What’s happening?” she asked, but Madara did not know the answer.

The sound of grating stone accosted his ears and the shrine began to sink back against the wall behind it. Looming beneath it was a giant stone box with another image of a Sharingan emblazoned on it.

The cover of the box began to slide back toward the shrine, the stone roaring in Madara’s ears as it opened up to reveal a set of stairs leading down below.

Once everything had settled and silence had filled the house again, Sakura turned to look at him. “What do you think is down there?” she asked.

The thought of Sakura following him down there suddenly irked him. There were all kinds of potential dangers down there, traps laid by Uchihas to keep their secrets safe. 

“I don’t know,” he said to her. “Stay behind me.” His hand shook as he reached to grip hers. 

They walked down the stairs in tandem, his grip on her tight enough that he felt her straining against him. He wasn’t exactly pleased that he had so little control over his fear and that Sakura could see it plain as day. He liked to think he could protect her from whatever fears she had, but he didn’t think that was true.

At the bottom of the stairs they were greeted by the sight of a meeting chamber. The arrangement of benches facing a podium implied that this was where the Uchihas would meet to conduct business.

Mercifully, the room was entirely empty. Madara could sense no lingering beings in here, no traps, no seals. Still he kept a careful eye on Sakura as she moved away from his side and began to pace through the benches, her fingertips skimming through their dust.

Madara approached the podium, wondering what it might have been like for the clan head to lead meetings from here.

Before he could deliberate on his position and the things he might have said to his people from this very spot had things gone differently, he noticed another stone tablet perched on a shelf in the podium. Curious, he reached for it and blew the dust away.

“Rinnegan,” he said, reading the single word in bold letters written across the top. He’d never heard the word before, but he could tell from the script on the stone that this was something he wouldn’t be able to read without the Mangekyou.

Sakura found her way back to his side, leaning up on her tiptoes to see what was on the stone. “What does it say?” she asked.

The text was quite lengthy, so it was fortunate for him that Sakura had taken the day off to stay with him because judging just by the first few words on the tablet, he was going to want her present for every word he discovered.

///

Madara’s fingers shook uncontrollably as he read through the stone tablet’s text. There was far more information there than he could have anticipated – a larger discovery than he had even been hoping to find.

The very first thing written on the tablet was about the Rinnegan. It was a warning. It made little sense to him, though he transcribed it for Sakura while she listened to him with bated breath. Awakening the Rinnegan was dangerous both to the user and the world around them. According to the tablet, it was too powerful a doujutsu, resulting in Godlike abilities.

This was enough to pique Sakura’s curiosity, and Madara’s too. There was a lot of information he had yet to read, but he was already feeling uneasy, though he was hard-pressed to deny that the Rinnegan was now something that he very much wanted to obtain.

“Does it say how to awaken it?” Sakura asked, her gaze flicking down to the stone in Madara’s trembling hands.

He skimmed the next paragraphs. He found nothing explaining it so he continued to read.

His own name was written on the tablet, and beneath it were horrifying details about his body. He hadn’t had the heart to go through his entire life history from this world. It hardly mattered anyway – it was all subject to change, and he would make sure that it did.

But that didn’t stop him from feeling a wave of dread now as he read through what had happened to his body after his death. He had actually awakened the Rinnegan in this life, and been in entire control of both it and his Mangekyou, the first of any Uchiha to achieve such a thing.

He didn’t want to read further or think about all the wrongs he had done in this life. Just skimming the words he could see that the Rinnegan had been awakened because he had stolen cells from Hashirama’s dead body and implanted them in his own chest.

His curse must have been at its worst then, he imagined. Bile rose in his throat and he remembered all the things that could have brought him to that point: Izuna’s death, losing to Hashirama over and over again, and now the fear of losing Sakura, too.

It was impossible to forget that moment back when he had first met Sakura, when she and he were pressed into that little lean-to he made and she explained to him that his ideas about peace were wrong.

After spending time here, not just with her but in the village that raised her, he sort of had to agree.

He relayed none of this news to Sakura, ashamed of the life he had lived here. It couldn’t compare to the one he would make with her, though he couldn’t help but yearn for the kind of power he’d been able to unlock this way.

The last section of the tablet, the most recently added scrawl, made Madara’s heart drop through his chest. Itachi’s name seared across his vision. The massacre.

Dread pooled in his stomach as he read of the Itachi’s final mission, of the betrayal the village elder’s had waged on the Uchiha clan. Rage boiled in his blood on Sasuke’s behalf – something he never imagined he’d feel. The Uchiha clan had been stabbed in the back, and had taken the fall for their own demise.

Fury sparked in him at the village elders, the ones who had given this order and denied Sakura’s hospital wing and probably voted for all the Senju Hokages that had come before.

“I’d need Hashirama’s help to do that,” he explained to Sakura, his voice a hoarse rasp. He had almost forgotten that she had asked a question as he absorbed himself in the stone’s words, reeling from the darkness they spread through him.

Impatiently, she stared at the tablet as if willing her eyes to be able to read it. “It says that?” she asked. “What else does it say?”

“I need his cells to complete the bloodline that can awaken it,” he said, his voice catching in his throat.

Sakura tugged on his sleeve and the gesture was so strange to him that he couldn’t help himself and he dropped the stone tablet to his side and looked down at her. She looked excited – a feeling he didn’t share with her.

“Tsunade-sama can complete the bloodline!” she said, bouncing on her heels.

Madara shook her head. “It’s more complicated than that,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter, because this is a warning. The Rinnegan is dangerous.”

Sakura gave him a skeptical look like she couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t be all over this.

“So you don’t even want to try to unlock it?” she demanded.

He glared down at her, though not without amusement. “Am I not already fascinating enough to you?” he teased. “How many different eyes must I awaken for you to be satisfied?”

“I’m very satisfied,” she assured him, tilting herself up to kiss his cheek.

His hand flew to her waist and gripped her there fervently. Sometimes he felt like he might just float away from the earth if Sakura’s eyes didn’t capture him so often and keep him grounded. Maybe that’s what had happened to him before, how he had ended up here with her. He’d just floated until he’d fallen into her gravity, time and space be damned.

“I need some air,” he said, dragging his eyes away from her for one last glance at the stone tablet. He quickly memorized it with his Sharingan, putting away all of that incriminating information for future note, trying his best to suppress the negative emotions whirling through him. He didn’t want Sakura to notice.

Sakura’s brow furrowed with concern, but she took his hand and led him back up the stairs anyway. Up in the fresh air, he felt like he could breath again, and he took a moment to feel relief and regret and sadness anew. He hadn’t found exactly what he had been looking for, but he’d found enough to keep him occupied.

The Rinnegan was intriguing, but the tablet had done nothing but warn against using it. In spite of his desire to have it, Madara’s most pressing thoughts lingered on Kaguya, on the moon, and why she seemed to think Sakura and Madara belonged together – if that was even the reason for Madara’s being here at all.

“Are you alright?” Sakura asked, brushing her fingertips over his brow. He could feel her cooling chakra nascent behind her skin, but not flooded into his system until he gave his word.

“Fine,” he assured her, though the cloud of darkness was swelling again in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking of the Infinite Tsukiyomi plan. Did it mean something that both he and Kaguya wanted to see it through? Was that why she had taken pity on his life and decided to allow him to change it?

He burst through the front door onto the porch, sucking in a lungful of crisp, morning air. It took him only a second to notice that a large, round moon hung in the sky above him.

Sakura tensed beside him and his grip on her hand tightened until he could feel her bones creaking under the pressure. “Don’t leave my side,” he said to her, worried for the both of them.

“I won’t.”

The moon, in all its silver glory, outshone the sun, whisked away the clouds that had hung in the sky just that morning. Even the earth beneath them seemed to fade away. Madara stared up into its face, wondering whether the face he had seen in it before had been Kaguya’s.

And then a sleepiness fell over him, forceful and undeterred by his reluctance. He swayed on his feet, clutching Sakura’s hand to his chest.

“Madara? What’s wrong?”

She pushed her hands into his chest, chakra flowing freely, not just in his head but everywhere in his entire body. He couldn’t look away from the moon, though he was dying to peer down at her face. He was sure it was filled with nothing but horror, and he didn’t want to see it, but he just wanted to know that she was okay.

This feeling was familiar, this tiredness, this weary and unnatural ache in his bones.

“I love you, Sakura,” he said because if this was going anything like the last time he’d felt this kind of sleepiness, he couldn’t be certain that he was going to see her again.

“Madara, wait, stay with me,” she begged, and the new note of urgency in her voice ripped his heart right out of his chest. “Don’t go to sleep. You have to stay awake.”

His eyes drifted shut in spite of the fact that he desperately wanted to keep them open so he could get his last look at Sakura and burn the memory of face into his heart forever.

A grunt escaped him and his knees hit the front porch heavily. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt so weighted, like his lashes were made of thick iron. Sakura’s hands were on his chest; he could feel her breath on his face.

“Please,” she said. “Just hold on. Don’t go yet.”

Tears formed in his eyes, part from sadness, part from the excruciating pain that was exploding behind his temples.

“I have to,” he whispered, reaching blindly for her face, “but I love you so much.”

“No!” Her hand connected with his cheek in a stinging slap. “Fucking try harder. Open your eyes.”

He swallowed the bitter lump in his throat, pleading for Sakura to calm down. He didn’t want his last moments to be with her like this.

But then he felt it – the one thing that could make the fear in his chest burble over. Sasuke’s chakra signature was approaching rapidly.

His arms wrapped around her desperately and he crushed her against his chest, not caring that he broke the thread of chakra that she had been carefully weaving through his body.

“Sasuke’s coming,” he whispered into her ear. “You need to get as far away from Konoha as you can.”

“I’m not leaving you here!” she screeched. 

With monumental effort, Madara peeled his eyes open to look at her. The weight of the world seemed to rest on his eyelids, and the second he could see again, the world became nothing but a swirl of silvery white light.

“Sakura,” he said, able to see only a halo of pink where her head was. “Go find Tsunade-chan or Kakashi. Don’t go after Sasuke on your own.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you’re back to normal,” she snapped at him, and her anger only made him feel sadder. “Just stand the fuck up!”

“Sakura, stop!” he shouted, grabbing her wrists and holding them between their bodies. “I can’t see. I’m about to pass out. Just promise me that you won’t let Sasuke kill you.”

She began to cry, but Madara felt a sudden wooziness come over him. Instinctively he wanted to hold Sakura against his chest, but the dizziness in his head spiraled around him until he felt like he was going to be sick.

Pushing Sakura just out of the way, Madara leaned over, bracing his hand against the porch’s rail, and threw up.

“You’re not going to pass out,” she said. He could feel her hands in his hair. “Just stay with—”

He didn’t hear the rest of her sentence, because all at once the world fell black and silent, and Madara’s shuddering body thudded down against the porch.


	40. Chapter 40

The air tasted as familiar as it ever had as Madara opened his eyes and rubbed at them with bone-weariness. Soft grass was beneath his legs and the solid trunk of an oak tree braced his back.

With a pang of confusion, he glanced around. He sat on his cliffside, perched against the tree he had fallen asleep against. The dirt path that led up to this spot was covered in leaves, but it was undeniably there, and for some reason that seemed strange to him.

He stood up, brushing off the dirt on his pants. The moon was high in the sky, and its roundness also seemed strange to him as he ambled down to the path. His stomach was growling and Izuna would be looking for him soon.

When he was up on his feet, he looked toward the cliff and the sea of trees beneath it. Something odd and warm filled his chest. He caught the scent of something sweet in the air and then suddenly it all came flooding back to him.

Sakura. His Sunflower.

Dryly, he swallowed his throat and stared at the village-less collection of trees below. He was home. He was finally here, and Sakura wasn’t.

And he’d left her in Sasuke’s clutches. He’d left her after he’d promised not to.

Panic burgeoning in his chest, he raced toward his home camp. Izuna would be there waiting for him, and in spite of how much pain and anguish he was in now, he knew he would find solace in his brother’s company.

The world felt different now, and he realized that he had become accustomed to Sakura’s world, to her sky and stars and the different air that seemed to infect her world.

He tried to shove down the frantic feelings that were lighting up his chest. His ribs felt like they were curling in around his heart, making it hard to breath. His head pounded with the cloud of darkness pressing against his skull and he feared that he’d never get rid of that pain without Sakura’s help.

He’d never see her face again. He’d never know the warmth of her body again. He’d never be able to kiss her or put those stars in her eyes again or elicit those sweet moans and sighs.

“Madara?”

He crashed through the camp’s invisible protection seal and right into his brother, who grunted with the force of Madara’s impact. Madara’s hands flew to his head, gripping his brother in a tight vice so he could inspect for injury.

“Madara, what the hell has gotten into you?” Izuna asked, swatting his hands away with irritation.

Breathing took too much effort, so Madara held it as he stared at his beautiful idiot brother. He was alive, and safe, and apparently unconcerned with Madara’s lengthy absence.

“How long have I been gone?” he asked in a loosed breath.

Izuna shrugged. He looked exactly the same as when Madara had left him. “A couple of hours?” he guessed. “I figured you were up on the cliffside. Why?”

This wasn’t good or bad news; it just was. No time seemed to have passed here at all, and for some reason this made Madara want to burst into tears.

Perhaps it had all been a dream. That seemed pretty far-fetched, didn’t it? Izuna would never believe that he had somehow been transported into the future, fallen in love with a perfect woman who had unlocked his Mangekyou, then been plucked back through time by the moon, and all between lunch and dinner?

“Hey, Madara.”

His eyes snapped to Izuna. For a moment he was reminded of Sasuke, and another pang of terror tore through him. Sakura was alone in the Uchiha compound, the first place Sasuke would go.

“What’s wrong?” Izuna asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Madara clapped a hand roughly on Izuna’s shoulder, causing him to stagger back. “Have you had any dreams about a pink-haired girl?”

Izuna paled. “Pink-haired girl?” he asked. “So you’ve seen her, too?”

The bustle of the camp seemed to burst up from the background, invading Madara’s head. A group of men were being herded into the medic’s tent and Madara caught sight of the freckled girl who usually healed his wounds sitting inside. His heart ached for Sakura, but what he could do now that he was here?

Trying to be discreet, Madara palmed Izuna’s shoulder and led him back toward their personal tents. They looked exactly as they had before Madara had gone away, exactly as they had back in his vision. Even now it was hard to think of anything but Sakura emerging from Izuna’s tent.

Madara pushed Izuna into the tent and followed him, zipping it shut behind him.

“Tell me about your encounters with her,” Madara demanded, though part of him was dying to crush his little brother in an embrace and never let go of him again. Of course that would make no sense to Izuna and he didn’t want to frighten him by acting so strangely. It was just a relief to see that he was okay.

Izuna looked unfazed by his brother’s erraticism. “You know now that you mention, maybe it had just been a dream,” he said with a shrug. “A couple of weeks ago I was looking for you on the cliffside and I ran into her,” he explained, moving to sit on his cot.

“Go on,” Madara urged.

“Well, she was kind of a bitch,” Izuna growled. “I was looking for you, and the stupid little thing wouldn’t stop trembling long enough to be able to tell me if she’d seen you.”

Madara bristled at his brother’s terse tone, feeling a surge of protectiveness for Sakura.

“I gave her my cloak so she could warm up, but she threw it back in my face,” he continued. “She wasn’t very helpful, to be honest. I thought she might have been a Senju, especially since she seemed to get kind of mad when I started talking shit about them.”

“This happened a couple of weeks ago?” Madara asked. If time hadn’t moved since he’d been gone, then he would have been here a couple of weeks ago. “Why were you looking for me?”

Izuna gave him a dry look. “Because you missed the clan meeting and I had to fill in for you,” he said. “At first I was worried about you, but then you showed up later that night and I’d heard rumors that you’d been with Hashirama.”

Madara winced guiltily, remembered that for once he had shirked his duty to go spar with his best friend. It hadn’t been a conscious effort to ignore his own responsibilities, but more of a forgetfulness.

“Is something going on with you?” Izuna asked. “You’ve been acting really strange.”

He shook his head. “What happened next?”

“Hmm? You came home.”

“With the girl,” Madara snapped, growing impatient.

“Oh,” Izuna said, wilting a little with confusion. “Well, we had a strange back and forth. I could tell she was a kunoichi, but she didn’t seem to want to fight me. That got me kind of curious, because I didn’t recognize her. I started to ask about who she was, but then we heard one of the Senjus release some kind of chakra bomb. I tried to get her to come with me to investigate, but she kept resisting me.”

Izuna sighed and buried his face in his hands, rubbing as if that could freshen his memory. “It’s hard to remember it all now,” he said. “It feels so fuzzy in my head, like maybe I just imagined it all. I just remember that something in the sky caught my eye – a flash or something. When I looked back toward the girl, she was gone. Just vanished into thin air.”

Madara frowned and stood up. He felt like he was going to be sick. He was the one who had vanished.

“Have you seen her, too?” Izuna asked. “Who is she?”

“I need you to tell me if you see her again, okay?” Madara asked, though it was really more of a demand. “And don’t touch her. She’s a dangerous kunoichi, you know. You shouldn’t have given her your cloak.”

Izuna rolled his eyes. “That tiny little thing?” he scoffed.

Madara tightened his fists at his side, imagining the feel of Sakura’s lips against his instead of the boiling rage that was bubbling in his head. Without her here, only her memory would serve to whisk away that darkness now. He’d have to be careful not to become consumed by his emotions and fall prey to his curse.

“Trust me, she could break every bone in your body with ease,” Madara muttered dryly.

“So you know her then? Who is she?”

He couldn’t answer such a question, and that only served to frustrate him further. “Just keep an eye out for her,” Madara snapped “and stay away from Tobirama.” He stormed out of the tent.

///

In spite of their rather terse reunion, Madara and Izuna spent a lot of time together in the following weeks. In an effort to keep his mind off Sakura and his total helplessness with the situation, Madara delved back into training.

Sparring with Izuna reminded him of why he had even wanted to come back here in the first place. Every jab, every blow, it was all to become stronger, to make Izuna stronger. They needed to be able to protect each other and themselves, and this had the added effect of bringing them closer together.

Though he had numerous cousins, and his aunts and uncles, it had always felt like him and Izuna against the world. Madara fiercely loved Izuna, and would even have given up Sakura for him if it had come to that, which in a way it had.

But even though his love for his brother was undying, Madara couldn’t help but feel like a splinter had come between them. Often when they were sparring, he would see Sasuke’s face. His rage would grow and he would stuff it down, not knowing what else to do with it. He certainly couldn’t take it out on Izuna.

Yet thinking of how he had called Sakura a bitch made Madara’s blood boil, too. That she had dreamt of him, that Madara had seen her emerging from his tent in his vision made Madara feel uneasy, and it frosted over a part of his affection for his brother.

He kept his Mangekyou hidden from Izuna and everyone else, worried that its appearance might bring up questions he couldn’t answer.

So even once he had sparred his fill with Izuna, he snuck away from camp at night to test out his new abilities. The first thing he discovered was his Susanoo. Before he’d learned anything else about his new kekkei genkai, he practiced using Susanoo until he was comfortable with it as he was his own body.

Then he began to practice more jutsus. During the day he scanned the battlefield, searching for jutsus to add to his collection. At night he practiced them, perfected them, becoming the fearsome warrior Konoha knew him to be.

His efforts did not go unnoticed with his clan. He could see their growing approval of him in spite of the fact that in the weeks prior he hadn’t been as focused as he could have been. Now he had nothing but focus and determination. Any second he let slip away from him always brought his thoughts back to Sakura, which pulled at the dark cloud that was slowing growing in his head.

Izuna kept closer to him than usual. Madara noticed him occasionally sneaking glances at him, his brow always furrowed with worry. That his brother could even tell that something was wrong made Madara’s chest feel tight.

Almost a month after he’d returned home, Madara saw Hashirama again.

They’d met again on the cliffside – their usual spot. Seeing the dirt path there still jarred him, and seeing Hashirama’s smiling face jarred him even more. It reminded him of Tsunade for a moment, which briefly tugged at Madara’s heartstrings and made him smile, too.

“You look happy for someone losing a war,” Madara teased. Per usual, neither of them was really winning. War bred losers on all sides.

“I’ve met a woman, Madara,” Hashirama said, his grin disarming. “A beautiful, charming, respectable woman who will be my wife and bear my children.”

Madara blinked, feeling a new wave of pure despair. “What’s her name?” he asked, his throat feeling rather dry.

“Mito Uzumaki, an angel from Whirlpool.”

His wife, Madara remembered. Tsunade’s grandmother.

Hashirama’s grin widened and he slid his feet into a fighting stance. “She’s moved into our camp, so we won’t have to fight over the old cave anymore.”

They would just have to find something else to fight over now. Madara knew that the first step to righting all of the wrongs that would happen in the future was to keep his relationship with Hashirama in tact. There could be no more of that rage; it would sink him too far into his curse.

With his Mangekyou, he could be strong enough to finally beat Hashirama properly, but he didn’t want to unveil that power just yet.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the Rinnegan. With it he would have more power than he could have dreamed of. He wouldn’t have to worry. He’d be able to beat Hashirama and protect his brother and his clan and the future village he planned on founding.

But he also knew the risks involved. The tablet had warned that it was dangerous, and Madara didn’t have to guess to know why. Awakening the Rinnegan meant a harrowing descent into darkness. Without Sakura, there was no way to peaceably unlock it, and even with her he wasn’t exactly sure.

The one thing he did know was that he needed Hsahirama’s cells.

“So when do I get to meet this girl?” Madara asked. He didn’t feel like sparring today even though Hashirama was already cocking his fists.

“Oh, you want to meet her?” Hashirama asked, clearly surprised. “You’ve never taken an interest in any of my romances before.”

Madara shrugged as he slid his feet into sliding stance, too. “If you love her, I want to meet her.”

Hashirama gave him a skeptical glance. “You’re not going to try to steal her from me, are you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Madara grinned. “She’s probably ugly,” he teased, “so you don’t have to worry about that.” She wouldn’t hold a candle to Sakura anyway.

“You’re right,” Hashirama conceded. “I won’t need to worry. No woman could ever fall for your brutish ways.”

Before meeting Sakura, Madara probably would have believed this. Sex, easy. Falling in love? Not so much. Would he ever be able to fall in love again? Did he even want to?

“I’m happy for you, Hashirama,” Madara said, and he meant it. He knew how incredible it was to have a charming woman to love, and he was jealous of the ease with which Hashirama seemed to have found it. He didn’t need to be accosted by the moon or tossed back through time at all.

“Don’t let that stop you from giving this spar all you’ve got,” Hashirama said, a smirk darkening his features.

“It won’t,” Madara assured him.

But it kind of did.

///

There was one thing about being back home that caused Madara more pain than anything else.

It was especially noticeable at night when he curled up on his cot to force himself to go to sleep. His body, so used to Sakura’s and the pleasure it gave him, yearned for her comforting touch.

The smallest solace he was afforded were the memories of her that he had been wise enough to capture with his Sharingan: the moment she had first stepped out of the shower and he had seen her naked, that kiss on the fallen tree, and the other one in the bathtub. Images of her on the balcony, gilded by the reflection of the yellow sunflowers, dressed in little red sundresses, biting her lip, tucking her hair behind her ears swam through his mind.

There was no other pleasure in this life but the comfort his own touch wrought against those memories of her. It was the only thing that lessened the growing ache in his head. Every night he’d touch himself, thinking of her, wishing desperately that she were here by his side.

Just the memories of her were not nearly enough. He craved her touch like nothing else, like he had become addicted to it in the short time he’d spent with her.

He gritted his teeth against the notion of finding some other woman to slake his lust. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that anyone else would disappoint him, and he couldn’t bear the thought of exposing himself to intimacy in such a way unless it was with Sakura.

Thinking of Sakura in this way made him feel guilty enough to have any pain mitigated come right back to him after he sat indulgently in the dark, cleaning his seed from his stomach, his flaccid member shoved back into his pants.

He hadn’t been able to protect her from Sasuke. For all he knew, she could be dead now. Sasuke could easily have killed her, and there was nothing Madara could do about it. Instead, he sat here like a goblin, furiously masturbating to the memory of his possibly dead lover.

But even though it made him sick, even though it caused just as much pain as it did relief, Madara found himself unable to resist the temptation each night. It was the only way he could get to sleep and the only thing that kept him from succumbing entirely to the curse and the unbearable ache in his head.

///

Nearly six months after Madara returned, a squad of Senju shinobi sneaked up to his camp.

He was aware of them the moment they approached his protection seals. He flung his blanket to the floor, ambling through the dark to dress himself and quickly locate his brother so that they could take care of this.

Madara didn’t want to. Though it caused all kinds of anger and hatred in his heart that the Senju were here of all places, probably spying or infiltrating, he didn’t want to harm anyone. Not if they could be close to Hashirama. It made him think of Izuna and Tobirama, and he just wanted the war to be over already.

But how did you stop a war once it had started? The only way was to finish it, and that meant there had to be a loser.

It wasn’t going to be the Uchihas, but that didn’t mean Madara wanted to be the Senjus.

“Izuna,” Madara said, shaking his sleeping brother’s shoulder. “Get up. We have intruders.”

Izuna was up and ready to go seconds later, following Madara silently through the camp. Darkness swallowed everything, though a few tents were glowing with light from lanterns within. It was deathly quiet, which served to put Madara more on edge than he already was.

“Shouldn’t we raise the alarm?” Izuna asked as they slipped between tents toward the edge of the camp.

“I want to handle this quietly,” Madara said.

“Are we taking prisoners?”

Madara shook his head. He didn’t know what he would come across, but something about the Senju being here seemed off. He knew Hashirama would never have ordered this sort of thing, and he wanted to be sure of what he was getting into before he made any decisions like that.

When they got to the back edge of the camp, Madara leapt over the short makeshift wall and crossed the protection seal just beyond it. He felt Izuna’s presence behind him.

In the darkness, Madara peered forward, his Sharingan whirling as it settled on the group of shinobi in front of him.

“Tobirama,” Madara said coolly, regarding his new opponent with more frost than he usually gave him. He had never particularly liked Tobirama, but after hearing Sakura describe the way he thought of the Uchihas, the way he’d killed Izuna, he couldn’t help but despise him now.

“Madara,” Tobirama leveled back. He stood flanked by two shinobi on each side, a group of six or seven more behind him. Madara was surprised to find such a large squad for a stealthy endeavor like whatever they had planned.

Unless that wasn’t what they had planned.

“You’d better have a good reason to be here,” Madara warned. He didn’t want to have to kill Hashirama’s brother.

A flash of a chakra signature startled him. It was disturbingly familiar.

“We have different notions of good.”

Madara glared at him and his smug expression. “Cut to the chase,” he snapped. “What are you doing here?”

“We brought you a gift,” Tobirama said darkly.

Confused, Madara slipped into a fighting stance. He wanted no gift the Senju would offer.

But then the shinobi around him began to part, revealing that someone was held prisoner within the ring of bodies.

Madara’s heart felt like it had been dunked in ice water. A head of pink hair tumbled into view as Tobirama pushed her forward. Bile rose to his throat, though something else entirely lifted his heart right up out of his chest. His breath came short and he knew he was in danger of making a serious mistake now if he couldn’t keep his thoughts together.

Sakura was cuffed in chains, her chakra repressed by the Senju seals on it. In spite of this, she’d been able to flare it, and for him, he realized.

A Senju hand was wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her face down toward the ground. She couldn’t have looked up at him if she tried, but Madara would have given anything for her to tilt her chin up and meet his gaze in that moment.

Madara’s gaze zeroed in on the hand that held her, his fury building by the second.

“What is the meaning of this?” Izuna asked, confusion evident in his voice.

“This bitch,” Tobirama spat, “pulverized half of our crops and took down an entire grain silo in a childish tempter tantrum—”

“I’ll show you a fucking temper tantrum,” Sakura snapped, and the sound of her voice made Madara’s heart pound in his chest.

“What you did was spiteful,” Tobirama chided with a familiarity that made Madara want to throw up.

“Sakura?” he asked, trying to control his voice.

The hand on her neck loosened and she looked up. Like the first time he’d met her, he found his breath stolen by the sight of her face. Her eyes were pleading and piercing, and he took a step toward her.

She stepped toward him, out of the Senju’s grasp.

“So you do know her?” Tobirama asked, visibly confused.

Madara peered down at her. Was this really his Sakura? Was she from a different future? Her hair was longer now, hanging just past her shoulders. She was wearing the tattered orange shirt that he recognized she used to sleep in and a pair of those familiar spandex shorts.

“Sunflower?”

Her eyes wavered and she pitched her body forward into his. Madara caught her, her hands still shackled between them. She began to sob against his chest and Madara felt his ribcage crack open and his heart and all his other guts pool at his feet.

The pain so stubbornly clinging to his skull suddenly released him from its vice grip. His eyes, he realized, had changed without his permission; he could feel that his Mangekyou was activated and that in spite of Sakura’s calming presence, rage was nascent in his entire body.

“Remove her chains,” Madara demanded, his voice low because if he spoke any louder he might snap.

Tobirama exchanged glances with the men next to him.

“Now,” Madara seethed. He could feel Susanoo’s armour starting to form around him, but he’d lost a bit of control. The only thing preventing him from running a blade through Tobirama’s chest was Sakura’s body between them.

She was trembling against him, but as he spun her around to face Tobirama he caught a devious look in her eye.

Tobirama reached forward and manipulated the seal on her chains. Madara watched him like a hawk, sensing his trepidation. As soon as her wrists were free, Sakura reared back and punched Tobirama in the chest with just enough chakra to send him flying back into the dirt.

“You fucking asshole!”

A smile tugged at Madara’s lips until he realized that Sakura must have been here for some time, and he’d had no idea.

“They’ve been holding you hostage?” he breathed into her ear.

She shook her head. “Well, kind of,” she said. “Hashirama has been nothing but pleasant, but that bitch over there thinks I’m an Uchiha spy.”

Tobirama stood up, his eyes narrowed. All of the Senju were stanced to fight, and the tension in the air was thick. Madara could see the blue glow from his Susanoo over the Senju faces and he could feel that his full armor had formed around him now. He was contented knowing that Sakura was safe inside it with him, her back press against his torso.

“You are a spy!” Tobirama accused. “You two clearly know one another. You may have tricked my brother into believing that—”

“I didn’t trick him into anything!”

“She’s not my spy, Tobirama,” Madara said. “Where is Hashirama? I need to speak with him as soon as possible.”

Tobirama glanced warily between Madara and Sakura, and then flicked his gaze to Izuna. Protectively, Madara angled his Susanoo in front of Izuna. Tobirama’s gaze glazed over for a moment and a strange blush rose to his cheeks.

“Hashirama is currently occupied.”

Madara’s gaze became cold as it swept over the Senjus before him. Had they come here just to get rid of Sakura? Something about this made him feel very uneasy.

“Then tell him to meet me on the cliff tomorrow morning,” Madara said calmly, deactivating his Mangekyou and allowing his Susanoo to fade away. He still held Sakura protectively in his grasp, but he pulled her against his side, angling her so that he stood between her and Tobirama.

“May I tell him what this is regarding?” Tobirama asked dryly.

Madara smirked, though his hatred of Tobirama was growing stronger by the second. “Tell him I accept his gift,” he replied, “and that I’d like to propose a truce.”

A smattering of Senju eyes that blinked astonished at him was almost comical.

“A truce?” Izuna demanded incredulously. “Are you out of your mind?”

Something in Tobirama’s face shifted, and he had an air of seriousness about him that unsettled Madara. But he nodded his head slightly.

“I will speak with my brother tonight,” Tobirama agreed.

“Good,” Madara said, his fingers sliding down to grasp Sakura’s with near bruising force. He felt light-headed standing beside her, and it took everything in his power not to pull her up into his arms and kiss the life out of her.

He couldn’t do that with all these Senju hanging around.

“Let’s go,” Tobirama said to his squad.

Obediently, they leapt back into the forest after him, leaving Madara alone with Sakura and his brother. The two most important people in his world, finally both at his side.

///

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is getting close! If all goes well there will be seven more chapters, plus an epilogue.
> 
> And how bout that smut, amirite? How many fanfics have you read where the smut is actually important to the plot? Truthfully, I don't like writing smut that much. It's more about the slow burn for me I guess. I know a lot of readers want so much smut, but it's honestly so fucking awkward to write. Like I can get one decent, romantic, non-cringey smut scene per story, but the more sex I write the more repetitive, and well, not hot it becomes.
> 
> Anyway, I'd love to know what you guys think about that. Thanks for the AMZING reviews you guys have been leaving. I get a little bit high off each one.


	41. Chapter 41

The second the Senjus were gone, Madara fell to his knees. He heard Sakura murmur his name, and suddenly his eyes felt hot. Did he want to cry? He wasn’t sure. All he could do was press his face into Sakura’s stomach, clinging to her hips desperately. She was whole, and she was here, and he was too afraid she would vanish to let go of her.

Her fingers threaded against his scalp and her chakra was in his head, cold, familiar, smooth. It whisked away any vestiges of pain that remained.

“You lying son of a bitch,” she said, though there was no animosity in her voice at all.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, knowing it was nearly enough to make up for leaving her, for breaking his promise.

But then her heat was wrenched away from him as Izuna grabbed her and pulled her up to her feet.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded from her, his fists cocked.

Madara grabbed his wrist and twisted. “Don’t,” he commanded. “She’s not an enemy.”

Sakura seemed unfazed by everything other than Madara himself. “I need to look at your head right now,” she said, her eyes fiercely determined. “You shouldn’t have let your head get so bad.”

“There was no helping that, Sakura,” Madara said, pulling her back against his chest. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Madara glared at his brother over the top of Sakura’s head. He was being needlessly loud and aggressive, and now that Sakura was here, all Madara wanted was to get her back to his tent and kiss her until they both died from lack of air.

“Izuna-san,” Sakura said, turning against Madara’s chest to extend a friendly handshake. “My name is Sakura Haruno. I believe we met—”

“In a dream,” Izuna said dryly. “I remember. Now can you tell me who exactly you are and what witchcraft you’re performing on my idiot brother?”

“Your idiot brother let his curse get out of control, and now he’s in a lot of pain,” Sakura said, ignoring the sharp pinch Madara gave her rear as retaliation.

“I’ll explain it all to you later,” Madara said to Izuna reassuringly. He looked down at Sakura, his heart pulsing wildly in his chest. He couldn’t believe she was here. “We need to get you some proper clothes,” he murmured to her, his gaze grazing the length of her body. “You must be exhausted and hungry.”

Wordlessly, the trio set off back toward the camp. Madara held Sakura tucked under his arm, leading her between the rows of tents. Most of the lights were out now, but as they neared Madara and Izuna’s personal tents, Sakura’s presence became noticed.

Sakura, for the all the curiosity she must have had, did not let her focus stray from Madara for one second. Her eyes were glued to his face, her neck craned to look up at him. Her fingers were hooked in the mesh of his shirt and he could feel them trembling as if she were cold.

Madara tightened his arm around her, his eyes darting between all the Uchiha faces that poked out of their tent to catch a glimpse of the camp’s intruder. He was sure they could all tell that someone foreign was in the camp, but he flared his chakra nonetheless to assure them all that they need not worry.

When they’d arrived at his tent, Madara ushered his brother and Sakura inside, quickly zipping it up behind them.

Seeing her standing in his tent, so near to the cot where he’d touched himself and thought of nothing but her for six month made his heart twist in his chest. She seemed so out of place with her pink hair and her stupid orange shirt.

“How?” was the first word he breathed.

Sakura helped herself to a seat on his cot, and for the first time since they’d begun walking, her attention turned to Izuna, who stood awkwardly near the entrance of the tent.

“How am I here?” she asked, a teasing smirk playing at her lips. The sight of it sent a harsh pang of arousal sweeping through Madara’s body, and he angled himself uncomfortably away from his brother. That only her half smile could light him up now meant promising things for the future, but Madara couldn’t think about those things right now.

“How are you alive?” he asked, and wasn’t prepared for the heat of Sakura’s glare.

“Do you want me to start from the beginning?” she demanded. “What should I explain to your poor brother here who looks as though he’s seen a ghost?”

Losing patience, Madara moved to sit beside her, though his gaze flicked to Izuna.

“Do you remember when we met, Izuna-san?” Sakura asked. Madara felt her shivering and he reached for the blanket on his cot and wrapped it securely around her shoulders. He suddenly remembered that she was used to a sort of luxury that didn’t exist here. He would make sure that Sakura had whatever amenities she required, but it was hard to ignore the sudden swell of inadequacy that threatened him.

“So it was real?” Izuna asked.

Sakura shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “I don’t really know, to be honest. So much about what happened back then made no sense to me. The moon and all those visions… That was unnatural, you know?”

“Did the moon bring you back here?” Madara asked. Isn’t that what the moon had wanted all along? Or the woman sealed inside it, rather.

“I’d be a lot better off if that bitch had helped me!” she exclaimed, earning a burst of laughter from Izuna. Madara still felt quite uneasy, and a little giddy with Sakura sitting so close. “No, Mada-kun, I did it the ole Konoha way – with elbow grease. It took me two years, but I figured out a form of inter-dimensional time-travel that allowed me to travel back here.”

“You did?” Izuna asked, clearly disbelieving of the revelation.

“Two years?” Madara demanded. “But it’s only been six months since I returned.”

Sakura’s brow furrowed at this. “Well, it’s possible that time has moved differently here than it has in my dimension,” she said. “How much time had passed here while you were with me?”

“None at all,” he explained, flicking his gaze to Izuna.

Izuna’s puzzled expression compounded until it looked like fury on his features. “Is anyone going to properly explain to me who you are and how you two know each other?”

“I’ll explain,” Sakura said, reaching for Izuna with a pale hand. Izuna looked to Madara as if for permission, so Madara nodded to him. Sakura took his hand and pulled him to the cot so that he was sitting on her other side.

“I met Mada-kun on the cliffside,” she said, turning her shoulders toward Izuna. Madara took the opportunity to let his gaze skim along her body. There were minute differences in her appearance now – her skin a little paler, her hair a little longer. But she was undeniably his Sakura, and even more beautiful than he remembered her.

“He had taken a nap against a tree and woken up to find himself in my dimension,” Sakura explained as if she were describing the weather. “It was very confusing for the both of us since he happens to be a historical figure in my dimension. Anyway, the poor thing fell in love with me, and well, I guess I love him, too, so I had to leave my dimension behind so I could come find him.”

Madara’s heart exploded in his chest, and a warm smile pulled itself up from his chest onto his face. “Is that true?” he asked, unable to contain the desperation in his voice, hoping that Izuna wouldn’t notice. “You came here on purpose?”

“Of course it’s true!” she said with exasperation. “Do you have any clue how miserable I was without you?”

“Miserable enough to leave Konoha behind?” Madara dared to ask. He hadn’t dared ask her before, and now the thought was eating him alive.

“We’ll make a new Konoha. A better one.”

He stared longingly into her eyes, desperately wishing to kiss her.

“You expect me to believe you’re some sort of time-traveling harlot Madara’s seduced and—”

“I am not a harlot,” Sakura seethed, and Madara threaded his fingers through hers and pulled her hand into his lap.

“No, you aren’t,” Madara agreed, “but I still don’t understand.”

Sakura sighed, and in that whoosh of breath Madara felt the weight of those two years she’d been away from him. It seemed cruel and unfair to have made her wait for so long, for Madara to have done nothing in the interim to find her. He felt guilt sluice through him – a feeling that darkened every nerve in his body.

He had failed her.

“Sasuke showed up soon after you disappeared,” she said. Madara tensed. He realized that she must have been okay through it all since she was here with him now, but the magnitude of his failure played over and over again through his mind. He had left her completely defenseless.

“I knew you had seen something under the Uchiha shrine that really upset you,” she continued. Her hand was shaking in Madara’s lap. “When Sasuke came for me, I convinced him to go down and read to me what was on the tablet you found.”

Madara clenched her hand tightly in his fist, upset that she had deliberately risked her life like that to—

“You’re right to be upset,” she said softly. “He did try to kill me first. He almost did. I just… I knew that he was the only one who could read me the tablet, and I couldn’t kill him or let him kill me. So I told him that I would help him awaken the Rinnegan if he read me the entire tablet.”

“You did what?” Madara demanded harshly.

“Stupid, sure, but you weren’t there to talk me out of it,” she snapped, and Madara closed his mouth.

“He read me everything, just like we agreed,” she continued, though now her gaze was back on Izuna. “I guess you know, then, that you’re actually descendants of that woman in the moon – you and every Uchiha.”

Madara nodded, though he was a bit startled by that piece of information being the first she chose to share. If Sasuke had read her the entire tablet, then that meant that—

“It was probably all that stuff about your body that upset you,” she continued, her voice impeccably soft. If Izuna weren’t here, he would have pulled her against his side and lowered them to his cot. This conversation was making him feel nauseous, and he knew the only thing that could make him feel better was Sakura’s body against his, her eyes on him and him only.

“I suppose I didn’t need to know that stuff,” she said, “and I guess that’s why you didn’t tell me. However, the information provided about Kaguya did help me with my pursuit of time-travel.”

“Alright, I’ve had quite enough of this,” Izuna said, and Madara glanced up at him to find more fury on his face. “Madara, may I speak with you in private?”

Madara blinked. He felt in no way inclined to leave Sakura for a single second, but the look on his brother’s face made him heave a sigh.

“You didn’t tell him about me?” Sakura asked, tugging on Madara’s sleeve as he stood up. His heart ached at the sadness in her voice.

He leaned down and pressed an indulgent kiss to her forehead, inhaling the scent of her – the sweetness of coconut and the muskier scent of her that he thought he’d never smell again.

“I should have,” he murmured to her, though even now he wondered if explaining all of this to Izuna was the right thing to do. “Stay right here,” he told her, his voice holding just enough warning to keep her rooted in place. “We’ll be right back.”

She nodded obediently, so, against all of his instinct, he turned his back to her and followed Izuna out of the tent.

///

“She’s got to be a Senju spy,” Izuna said the moment they were out of listening distance.

The night air was chilly, and the brightness of the moon invigorated Madara in a way it hadn’t for some time.

“She’s telling the truth,” Madara said wearily. “I did meet her on the cliffside, and I even fell in love with—”

“She was in your head, for god’s sake!” Izuna seethed. “I saw her funneling chakra right into your head. She could have done all kinds of things to you! Altered your memories, planted news ones… You really ought to—”

Madara cut him off with an exasperated sigh. “I understand your worry, but she’s really nothing to fret over.”

“She was handed over to us by the Senju,” Izuna pointed out tersely.

“A gift for which I am eternally grateful,” he murmured in response, thinking of all the places he was going to touch her when he returned to his tent.

“You haven’t seen this girl in… how long again?”

“Six months.”

“Six months!” Izuna practically shouted. “You trust her so implicitly that you’d lead her right through camp like this, and let her into your head, and—”

“Izuna, stop,” Madara said impatiently, giving his brother a stern glare. “Let her prove herself to you. She is trustworthy. Yes, I know the story isn’t making a whole lot of sense right now, but that isn’t her fault. This whole situation is just very confusing.”

Izuna’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arm over his broad chest. “Yes, this whole thing is confusing,” he agreed. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of this.”

Madara shrugged, though he felt another stab of guilt. “I didn’t think you’d believe me,” he said with defeat. “I didn’t think I’d see her again, so it didn’t matter. Of course I did warn you that if you saw her—”

“You did warn me,” Izuna conceded, and Madara was tired of being cut off now. “You warned me she was a dangerous kunoichi. Did you not think to heed your own advice?”

Growing angry at his brother’s tone, Madara growled. “I did heed my own advice,” he said. “You think I just let some strange girl funnel chakra into my brain? I’m not a fool. Look at what she did for me.”

He activated his Mangekyou, letting the tomoe of his eyes morph into their new and improved shape. With it activated, it was hard to miss the clench in Izuna’s jaw. He didn’t, however, looking surprised.

“I saw your power,” Izuna said quietly. “I knew you’d unlocked it somehow.”

A beat of silence stretched between them.

“She unlocked that for you?” Izuna asked. “Was it… was it because you missed her? I noticed that you’ve been depressed for the last few months. Did it… did the sadness…?”

Madara shook his head. “No, not sadness,” he explained. “The opposite, in fact. She knows how to circumvent the curse.”

“Impossible,” Izuna said, and Madara feared that he would have a lot of work to do in order to convince his brother that Sakura wasn’t a spy.

“If you change your mind about her, I’m sure she’d love to get a look in your head,” Madara suggested. “She could even unlock yours, I bet.”

Though he vehemently hoped it would be in a more platonic way.

“I’m not letting that witch anywhere near my head.” Izuna frowned and glanced back warily toward the tent. “We can’t even trust her in the camp.”

Madara clenched and unclenched his teeth. “I trust that girl, Izuna,” he said softly. “You don’t have to, and I understand why you don’t. But I’m not going to send her away. She has nowhere to go.”

“The Senjus will take her back,” Izuna said. “You heard what she said: Hashirama was perfectly pleasant. He’ll take care of her; you know how he is.”

“No.”

“Brother, you’re being unreasonable,” Izuna said. “We both had dreams about this girl. Think about that. Do you think maybe we could have been hit with some kind of jutsu?”

Madara had thought about that a million times already.

“She’s staying here, Izuna.”

Izuna’s scowl was fierce. “If you’re slaking your lust, you can do so without putting the entire camp at risk. There are plenty of women here who—”

“I won’t be slaking my lust, you pervert,” Madara snapped. “She just came from the Senju camp, and I just proposed a truce. We have important things to discuss before tomorrow morning when I meet with Hashirama.”

“You don’t think that’s something you should discuss with the clan elders?”

“It’s something I’d prefer to discuss with the two people who matter the most,” Madara said pragmatically. “One of them being you.”

“And the other is her?” he demanded incredulously.

“I stole her, Izuna,” Madara said with a wicked grin. “She was someone else’s good fortune. She was meant to do great things. She was meant to be an Uchiha matriarch, just not mine. But I stole her, and we are so lucky to have her. You have no idea how much she is going to help us.”

Izuna only rolled his eyes. “Well, she’s clearly got you wrapped around her finger,” he muttered dryly.

“I’ll take full responsibility for whatever atrocities she may commit,” Madara said, though his seriousness was mitigated by his wolfish grin.

“I never thought I’d see the day you were so smitten with a woman,” Izuna said, shaking his head with disdain.

“There may never have been such a day were it not for her,” Madara said a little more softly. Izuna looked up at him, his eyes both suspicious and pleading. The moonlight caught them and Madara could see its round reflection in his gaze.

“Please, Izuna,” Madara said. “I need to discuss what I’m going to say to Hashirama, and I want you by my side.”

Izuna wore a frown of disapproval, but Madara could see that he was softening at least a little bit. “Fine,” he eventually relented. “But I’m going to be watching her like a hawk.”

///

Sakura rose to her feet the moment Madara and Izuna returned to the tent. The blanket slipped from her shoulders, her eyes wavering with an emotion Madara wasn’t sure of. Her fingers twisted together nervously in front of her chest as her gaze flicked between Madara and Izuna.

Madara hated to see her looking so out of sorts. She looked like she could use a warm bath and a plate of hot food, and then a long night of rest beside him.

Before he could speak up to make these suggestions, Izuna beat him to it.

“Sakura-san, was it?” he asked, his voice derisive. Madara bristled. “No offense to you, but I’m sure you’ll understand that I don’t trust you.”

“You’re not the first Uchiha who’s told me that,” Sakura confessed. “In time I hope you’ll come to trust me. I anticipate us being good friends.”

Izuna glared at her, but this only seemed to amuse her. She laughed.

“Maybe if you can answer these questions to my satisfaction,” Izuna said, and Madara nearly rolled his eyes at his brother’s stern tone. “What were you doing with the Senjus?” he demanded.

Sakura sank back down against the cot, and Madara sat beside her, pulling the blanket up off the ground to place back around her shoulders. She shivered while he rubbed her arms to warm her up.

“When I was transported here, I ended up on the cliffside,” she began. “I didn’t have much of a plan, to be honest. I’m still kind of in shock that everything worked properly. I’ve only been here for two days, you know.”

Madara’s hands tightened around her arm. That wasn’t so long, he thought, though the idea that she had been in the Senju camp for the last two days made him feel overwhelmingly dizzy.

“I realized immediately that I had no clue how to find you, Mada-kun,” she continued. “I couldn’t just roam around looking for you – especially since you’re the clan head of the Uchihas and, you know, war.”

“But you did know where to find the Senjus?” Izuna asked suspiciously.

Sakura shook her head, taking no offense to his bitter tone. “Hashirama-sama found me,” she explained. Then a red blush crept up her neck. “Well, Mito-san found me.”

“And you just went along with the first strangers who happened past you?” Izuna asked.

Madara was growing tired of his criticisms.

“Hashirama-sama isn’t a stranger,” Sakura said. “Well, not really. I mean I knew it was safe to go with him. He’d never hurt me.”

Izuna shook his head, clucking like hen. “See, Madara?” he said, gesturing toward Sakura with an open hand. “She’s stupid. She thinks she Senju are harmless.”

“Didn’t you just get finished telling me we should send her back to the Senjus?” Madara asked, brow raised with malicious compliance.

Izuna flushed.

“The Senjus aren’t so bad, are they?” Sakura asked.

“We’re only fighting a war against them,” said Izuna dryly.

Sakura smiled at him, and Madara would have felt sorely unnerved if she had looked at him that way. The grim set of her eyes and the tight line of her lips made her irritation obvious, yet her smile seemed to be genuine, if a little sickly sweet.

“Well, come tomorrow that won’t be true anymore.”

Madara reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. His fingertips grazed her cheek, bringing a warm flush to them that made Madara feel all kinds of contempt for his brother’s current presence.

“You discussed a peace treaty with Hashirama?” he asked her, trying to stay focused.

“Well, we discussed that I think he should be seeking one from you,” she conceded. “I thought I’d acclimate him to the idea. He might be shocked if you just drop by unannounced to declare you want peace.”

Madara’s smile was warm and affectionate. “I’m sure he wants it as badly as I do.”

“He does!” Sakura exclaimed. Izuna scoffed from his perch on Madara’s desk on the other side of the tent. “It’s Tobirama who caused me so much trouble. Hashirama-sama brought me back to camp and I tried to explain to him everything that happened. Mito-san was there, too, and neither one really seemed to believe me, and I understand that. I tried to convince them that I needed to see you immediately, but that made Tobirama really suspicious.”

“What did Hashirama have to say?” Madara asked her.

Sakura shrugged. “It was hard to read him. He seemed distracted the whole time I was there,” she said. “I was under the impression that he and Mito were – ahem – still in the honeymoon phase.”

This made Madara laugh. “All the more reason to end this war,” he said. “His got his peace, and I’ve got mine.” He kissed Sakura’s forehead.

Izuna groaned derisively and kicked himself away from Madara’s desk. “You’re really going to do this?” he demanded.

Madara gave him a scathing look. “What do we have to lose?” he asked. “Do you want to fight this war for the rest of your life? It has to end sometime. Why not now?”

A somber silence filled the tent. Izuna’s gaze was dark when it drifted away from Madara and landed on Sakura. Madara lifted his arm up and put it protectively around her shoulder. Izuna’s suspicion was clear, but only time would fix that problem.

“I’m not convinced we can trust her,” Izuna said. “She could be leading us into a trap.”

“She could be,” Madara agreed, ignoring the yelp of protest Sakura made, “so I suppose that means you won’t accompany me to meet Hashirama in the morning.”

Izuna crossed his arms. “As if I’d leave you to fend for yourself.”

“Glad to hear it,” Madara said. “Be prepared to leave at dawn.

The dry look that skittered across his face seemed to amuse Sakura, who giggled and leaned warmly against Madara’s side.

Izuna recognized the dismissal, but his gaze turned wary as he glanced toward the tent’s zipper. “You’re sure you can manage her?” he asked softly, not sour anymore but definitely worried.

Madara stood and clasped his brother on the shoulder. “No, but I’d really like to try in privacy.”

Another look of disgust flashed across Izuna’s face while Sakura let out another burst of giggles.

“I think you’re making a mistake, brother,” said Izuna, but Madara could only shake his head. The only mistake he’d made today was having not kissed Sakura yet.

“Then let me suffer the consequences.”

Madara watched the clench of Izuna’s jaw again. He felt a flare of annoyed chakra and saw a blaze of red in his brother’s eyes.

And then, Izuna yanked the tent’s zipper down and strode out into the night, leaving Madara and Sakura finally alone.


	42. Chapter 42

Madara whirled on Sakura the moment they were alone. She sat perched on his cot, her eyes glittering with mischief in spite of the tired bags under her eyes. She held the corner of his blanket against her chest, and for the first time Madara realized that she had probably been anxious of him, too. After all, she had no way of knowing that he was her Madara.

“Sunflower,” he said, crossing the tent to fold her into his arms.

She went limp against him, shivering though Madara didn’t think she was cold anymore.

“I found you,” she murmured, her lips brushing against the skin just above the collar of his shirt. His hand found the back of her head, holding it to him.

They sat for some time like that, their bodies seeping together. Madara wanted to fold her up into his chest and never let go.

“I wanted to ask you to come back with me,” he said, clutching her a little tighter. “I was afraid you’d say no. I thought it didn’t matter because I didn’t know how to get back anyway. You have no idea how much guilt…” He pressed his nose to the top of her head and inhaled. She smelled so sweet, so her. “And now you’re here,” he said, a curious statement.

Sakura leaned her weight against him, her body trembling. Madara ran his fingers up and down her spine, hating that he didn’t have a plush mattress and proper pillows for her.

She said nothing, but Madara could feel his shirt becoming damp with her tears, and every once in a while her shoulders shuddered with emotion.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said. He didn’t like the silence. He felt like they had so much to catch up on. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. He wanted to know everything she had been up to for the last two years, and he wanted to share with her everything she had missed over his last six months.

But he couldn’t do that while she was still crying, and they both really ought to have been getting some rest.

“I thought you’d have moved on,” he continued, his voice growing bolder as he went on. All the negative thoughts, all the fears and worries he’d had about her came pouring forth, and he didn’t even try to stop them even though part of him knew it would probably upset Sakura to hear them. “I thought you’d have gone back to Sasuke, fixed him and married him.”

Sakura let out a sound that could have been a sob or a laugh. Madara wasn’t sure he wanted to know which it was.

“I forced myself not to think about you,” he said, wrapping his arm a little tighter around her. Her breath was hot on his chest, and all the tiny motions she made reverberated through him, lighting up his guts in a fluttering, glittering way. “I knew that if I did, it would bring more darkness that I’d never be able to get rid of. But, god, Sakura, you have no idea. I just couldn’t stop imagining you with him, or killed by him, or…”

He couldn’t continue. He didn’t want to think of all the sordid possibilities.

“This has all been less than pleasant for me, too, you know,” she said, and Madara was surprised to hear her voice sounding strong and sure. “I never thought I’d see you again, either. So much happened after you left. Sasuke and I, we went to your body for your Rinnegan, but—”

Madara squeezed her hard enough that it cut off her next words. He couldn’t hear about this.

“Sakura, please—”

“No, listen,” she said fiercely, pulling back to look at his face. He could see that she was angry, and at him. “I had to live it, so you have to hear it.”

With his palm, Madara smoothed away the frizzy tangles of her hair that had fallen into her face, some damp with tears. She looked a wreck now, dark circles, tears, tattered clothes. His heart aching for her, Madara held her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly on the mouth.

“Okay, baby, tell me everything,” he said, because even if it was painful he needed to hear it. He deserved the pain, anyway.

Sakura’s eyes wavered, two glimmering emeralds that caught his gaze and held it. Mesmerized by the sight of her, Madara could do nothing but watch with rapt attention as she went into more detail.

“When we found your body, we also found… a lot more than we ever hoped,” she explained, leaning into his touch, though her gaze was as serious as ever. “We learned the truth about the massacre, and secrets that Konoha elders had been keeping for a long time. We learned more information about Akatsuki, and your involvement with them.”

Madara’s brow furrowed as he struggled to remember some of these details. Akatsuki had been the terror organization that Itachi had joined after defecting from Konoha. How could Madara have had anything to do with that since it had taken place so long after his death?

“The extent of your crimes was even worse than we previously thought,” Sakura said, her voice low and dangerous. “After discovering all these things, war broke lose between the five nations and Akatsuki.”

His breath hitched in his throat. Madara swallowed and he was unable to stop his fingers from trembling against her.

“You used your Rinnegan to come back from the dead,” she said, her voice now a whisper, and a frightened one. “You led the attack against us.”

Breath came short, teetering in and out of his lungs without really providing any oxygen. Madara felt a cold, icy stab of hatred for Sasuke and himself and his clan for being this way. Regret burbled up in him like nausea, and he let go of Sakura, afraid he might vomit.

“I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you the rigors of war,” she continued. “It was hard enough to just do that, but while this was going on, I was also having to deal with Sasuke, who still desperately wanted me to help him awaken the Rinnegan. So I worked with him, and I, well, I fixed him, I guess. His curse, I mean. That darkness really does so much work against you, and the difference in him just after clearing out the darkness… It was like having the old Sasuke back again.”

“You cured him?” Madara asked. That was a good sign even though her proximity to Sasuke during this time made his feel queasy. It meant she would be good help to his clan in the future.

She nodded. “He helped us win our final battle,” she said somberly. “Team 7 versus Madara Uchiha, wielder of the Rinngean, Sage of the Six Paths.”

“Me?” he choked. The idea of Sasuke and Sakura worked together to fight against him… Darkness began to swirl in his head. He closed his eyes, clenching his teeth, furious with himself for letting it all get so bad in that reality. How could he have possibly made so many poor decisions to lead to any ending like that for him?

“And you killed me?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not me. I couldn’t do it,” she said. Her cheeks were still wet with tears, which shone brightly in the lantern-light of the tent. “It was hard enough to fight you at all. I mean I knew that it wasn’t you. You were much older, and so different. Not even the same man.”

He couldn’t imagine putting himself in her shoes. Would he have been able to fight her in a similar situation? He couldn’t even bear the thought of hurting her back when he didn’t trust her. Doing it now would be impossible.

“But we defeated you and ended the war,” she explained. “So life carried on as normal in Konoha, except you weren’t there, and I missed you terribly. Sasuke decided it was time that he atone for his sins, so he left Konoha to try to do good in the world. Naruto became Hokage. Even though things were going about as well as they could, I was miserable.”

She sighed, and Madara gently pushed her down against the cot and maneuvered himself beside her. He pulled the blanket over their bodies and rested his head next to hers so that he could see her face. With an inch between their noses, he reached up and used his thumb to brush away her spilled tears.

“I missed you so much,” she said. “I thought I’d never see you again, and it made it so hard to focus on anything. The war, while obviously awful, was a bit of a distraction. Fixing Sasuke was, too. Once those things were, well, done, I got so restless. I started taking on all this extra work at the hospital, side projects, new jutsus, anything that would keep my mind off of you.”

Madara could relate. He let his thumb brush along her lower lip, his eyes following the motion. He’d almost forgotten how beautiful she was, and she sight of her here like this on his bed took his breath away. He had plucked an angel right out of heaven.

“Then how did you end up here?” he asked. She shifted a little close so that their noses barely touched.

At this she grinned, and the sight seemed to illuminate the whole tent. The cherry pink color of her lips warmed right through to his soul, her sparkling white teeth sending a flutter of heartbeats kicking up in his chest. Being so close to her, it was hard to resist the temptation to simply shift his head and press his lips to hers, but he needed to hear her answer to the question.

“I was in the flower shop with Ino one day,” she began, and Madara felt enamored with her now that she was grinning and pleasantly flushed. “I was complaining to her that I’d never find another man like you, but she really didn’t think you were all that great.”

Madara let out a tiny scoff. He wanted to kiss her so badly.

“So I told her all these stories about how romantic and amazing you are—” Madara laughed. “She actually seemed pretty impressed with you, but it was the story about how you burned my face and gave me my nickname that seemed to change her mind about you. I don’t know why,” Sakura mused. “That story isn’t really all that romantic. You were trying to punish me, after all. But she thought the nickname and the reason for it was so cute. So she convinced me that I couldn’t give up on finding you.”

Madara recalled the blonde and the strange few encounters he’d had with her. He’d felt a fondness for her back then, even if he found her a little annoying. She seemed to really care for Sakura, and now, hearing of what she had just done for him, Madara felt real affection for Ino.

“She pushed you to do this?”

Sakura nodded. “She’s always tried to steer me away from Sasuke, and I get that,” she admitted. “She encourages me to, uhh, go after guys all the time, and so I wasn’t surprised when she was really happy about, you know, our relationship. I was a little surprised, though, when she suggested I seriously try to find you after you disappeared.”

A low roll of thunder echoed through the camp. Madara knew the rain would be light and the storm quick.

“I had considered it before, obviously,” she said, “but there wasn’t any research on time travel done at the time. I scratched my head about it for months, but you know I was grieving the loss of you, fighting a war, curing Sasuke. It was hard to think clearly. But once the war was over, I realized Ino was right and I felt guilty for giving up so easily.”

A tiny, cool hand came and settled on his neck. Her thumb brushed against his jaw and a shudder rippled through him. Pained, he pulled back just enough to press fleeting kisses to her forehead, her temple, her brow.

“I’m the guilty one,” he murmured between the peppered kisses. “I didn’t even try to come back to you. I tried to force you from my mind entirely.”

Soft kisses melted into hotter ones. When Madara’s lips grazed her cheek he realized she was crying again, though her tears were silent now. He pulled away from her, aghast that his attention on her had become heated while the poor thing was reliving the horrors that had befallen her.

But her fingers on his neck stilled him and she pressed her lips to his, pulling herself flush against him.

Her trembling tears worried him, but he kissed her in spite of it. There was something about the desperate way she clung to him that put him on edge.

When she finally allowed Madara to pull away, her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot and there was devastation clear in them. The sight of her like that made his heart freeze into a block of ice and then drop into his stomach.

“Do you still love me?” she asked in a whisper.

His heart, still lodged in the oceanic pit of his stomach, split in two and burst into flames.

“Sakura,” he breathed, rolling on top of her and pinning her body beneath his. He couldn’t bear to see her this way so he buried his face in her neck and greedily sucked in the scent of her.

“I never stopped loving you, Sunflower,” he said, nipping gently at the creamy skin of her neck. He could feel himself growing hard now, and he didn’t care. “I will never stop loving you.”

She twisted beneath him, and though he couldn’t see her face, he knew she was his again. Her fingers threaded against his scalp and pulled him up for another searing kiss. She was bolder now, her tongue exploring with brash leisure, her hips pressing ever so slightly up into his stomach.

Amused, Madara smiled into their kiss, and then pressed more kisses to her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids. There was no part of her he wanted to leave unkissed; every square inch of her body deserved his attention.

“I bet you missed me,” he said, finding his way down to her jaw to press more kisses there, and then down to her neck.

She whimpered, tilting her head to offer more of her neck to him. “Of course I missed you,” she whispered, her head thrown back against his pillow.

“I bet you dreamed about me,” he continued, slipping his hand beneath her orange shirt to touch the heated skin of her stomach. “I bet you couldn’t stop thinking about the way I touched you.”

A heady gasp loosed from her lips as he cupped her breast. He was surprised to find that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and he briefly wondered how exactly she had come to discover the ever-elusive time travel, and why she hadn’t prepared better for the journey.

But that thought was whisked away when Sakura hoisted her legs over his back and lifted herself against him. “I couldn’t,” she agreed. “I really couldn’t.”

He smirked and palmed her ass, holding her tiny form up against his. With one smooth motion, he flipped them over so that his back was to the mattress and she sat perched atop him, straddling his waist.

Her fingers curled against his chest, fingernails digging into his skin. Her hair fell around their faces, curtaining them from the rest of the tent. Cocooned in her world of pink hair and star-like eyes, Madara felt the dizzying effects of her presence acutely. His own desire for her seemed to swirl in the air between them, warming him from the inside out, drawing him ever closer to her, as if only the fusion of their skin could be close enough.

“Sakura,” he moaned as she pushed her hips back and settled herself squarely over his hardened length.

“I know you didn’t leave on purpose,” she said raggedly. “But you made a promise to me and you broke it.”

“I’m sorry.” He was so, so sorry. His eyes felt hot again and he thought he might want to cry.

She closed the small distance between them and pressed her face to his neck, her body molded against his. “Should I be mad at you when I know you couldn’t help it?”

His hands closed around her waist, gripping her with a reverent and terse force before he loosened the tight curls of his fingers and slid them down to her ass and gave it a firm squeeze.

“I’ll make it up to you, baby,” he assured her, his words stuttered as she feathered soft kisses to his throat. “I’ll make sure you have everything you want.”

A smile was suddenly pressed to his heated skin, and he felt the flutter of her lashes.

“Everything I want?” she asked. Her breath made him shiver. She nuzzled her face affectionately against his skin. “You can’t just make promises like that because you think I want to hear it.”

Madara groaned when she nipped gently at his earlobe.

“I look forward to you trying, though,” she said, her voice husky and teasing.

Trying to make her happy was his new life goal. He found her mouth and kissed her, his hands roaming to every dip and curve of her body, to all the parts of her he’d neglected in the past: her elbows, her heels, every contour of each rib that he’d yet to explore.

“Marry me, Sakura,” he said against her mouth. “Be my wife, please. I’ll make you happy, I swear.”

To his utter consternation, she giggled. Then she kissed him, slow at first, and with her half smiling, amused at his expense, which angered him until the kiss became more heated, and now he could smell Sakura’s arousal. He stopped only to come up for breath, but Sakura immediately pulled him back down and he forgot for a moment that she hadn’t answered him yet.

“Sakura?” he asked, feeling a nervous dread pool in his stomach the likes of which he’d never felt, even before battle.

She pulled away from him just enough to peer into his eyes. The explosion of spring that was wrought by the pink curtain of her hair and glowing, honeydew eyes activated his doujutsu; he hardened at the proper sight of her, shocked enough that her beauty even existed at all, let alone here in his tent of all places.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” she said, and rolled her hips against him.

Darkness pierced the shell of pleasure that coated his brain. Sakura’s fingers were on his temples in an instant, but he brushed them away.

“Breaking your promise already?” she asked teasingly. “You are so selfish. I leave behind my entire life to come here to be with you, and you can’t even summon the patience to wait one day.”

“I hate every second that I’m not married to you,” he said, holding her hips; he couldn’t take the wicked way she swirled her heat over him. “Is that so wrong?”

She pressed her face back against his neck, her hips working against the hold he had on them. Her whole body writhed against his. The pants and moans she sounded against his throat told him that she was working toward her own release. Stricken, Madara pushed at her shoulders, though his body betrayed him, his length hardening under Sakura’s seduction.

“You don’t want to marry me?” he asked.

“You think I would have left my entire life behind if I didn’t want to marry you?” she demanded harshly, though her hips still circled above his.

Angrily, Madara grabbed her thigh and squeezed hard enough to leave a hand shaped bruise there. Sakura froze, her jaw clenched tightly. They sat that way for a moment, perfectly still. Then Sakura relaxed and she reached for his temples. He swatted her hands away.

“You think I would have come here if I wasn’t prepared to have your ten children?” she hissed.

He stared at her, hurt and confused.

“Never mind that I don’t know the first thing about being in a clan, and definitely not being the matriarch of one!”

Her body went rigid, and more guilt taxed him. If she reached for his temples again, he would not reject her.

“You’re scared,” he accused. Knowing what it was like to grow up as an Uchiha, he couldn’t blame her. She would worry about herself, her husband, her children forever, but what mother wouldn’t? With her by his side, Madara could make sure that the Uchiha clan became the strongest it could be.

She wilted on top of him. “No one here trusts me,” she said. “Not even your brother. Hell, the Senjus didn’t trust me, either. Hashirama was the only one who didn’t think I was a spy.”

That struck Madara as strange. Why Hashirama would take to a random pink-haired kunoichi was anybody’s guess.

But that was a question for later. In a gesture of good faith and affection, Madara reached up and put his fingertips to her temples. He couldn’t funnel chakra into her brain, of course, though he knew a few healing jutsus that she had taught him. He merely held her that way, like she had done to him so often.

Her gaze softened, and even though Madara was remiss to lose the enhanced sight of her, he deactivated his Sharingan. It was worth it to see her gaze melt further and a warm smile light up her face. He pulled her down and kissed her forehead.

“Trust takes time, Sakura. You know that,” he chided, “but you don’t have to worry. I am certain that everyone here will love you as much as I do.”

“Dear god, I hope not,” she laughed.

He kissed her mouth, guiding her hips back to their previous motions. “I’ll be right by your side,” he said, smirking as the re-hardening of his length made Sakura gasp. “To help you take care of all the children I’m going to fill you with, and to show you everything you need to know about being in my clan, and to make you come over and over and over again.”

He kissed her again, swallowing her adorable giggle. Finding the loose fabric of her awful orange shirt cumbersome, Madara lifted it up over her head while she compliantly lifted her arms for him.

“Let’s start with the last one,” she breathed as he tossed her shirt aside. Her naked chest was a sight to behold; of all the times he’d sat in this very cot and imagined it, they didn’t even come close to the real thing.

There was no time to verbally agree with her, though his body very much obliged with her wishes. He sat up, lifting Sakura up with his hand on her ass so that he could spread languid and reverent kisses across her heaving chest.

She clung to him, her skin hot and flushed, her breaths soft pants and sighs. “Madara,” she cooed, tangling her fingers in the roots of his hair. She grinded her hips against his ribs, and he only thought to pull back away from her when he realized how starved she seemed for his touch.

“You’re ready to explode, aren’t you?” he teased, taking a nipple into his mouth and giving it a gentle suck.

Her hips bucked wildly and she let out a sharp cry.

Amused, he reached behind him for her ankles and lifted them up until she was on her back against his legs. He brought her ankles together in front of him and rested them on his shoulder while he pulled at the waistband of her little shorts.

He reveled in the exposure of the tuft of pink hair at her crotch and the gloriously wet slit that was now commanding every bit of his attention. When she was completely naked, he pulled her back up so that she was sitting in his lap, her legs on either side of his hips.

“How do you want me to please you, Sakura-oujo?” he said with a wicked grin. “Maybe you’d like to ride my face again. Or perhaps you’ve developed a new perversion in our time apart?”

Sakura’s face bore an expression of narrow focus. Her eyes were affixed to the mesh of his shirt, and she could not muster up an answer to his questions in her haste to pull it up over his head.

“I wondered sometimes if I only dreamed of you,” she whispered, her attention raptly following the hot trail her fingers left over the curves and valleys of his chest and stomach. His muscles twitched under her ministrations, his length painfully hard now. 

She craned her neck down and pressed fleeting kisses to his collarbone and shoulders while her fingers worked the clasp of his pants.

“I thought maybe I just had a wild imagination, that I’d somehow fabricated our entire relationship in my mind out of some kind of crazy desperation,” she continued, yanking his pants down to his knees.

With his erection exposed, Madara felt the iciness of the air inside the tent and felt the need to pull Sakura down to the warmth of the cot with him.

She kissed him, and as she began to pull away, Madara clung to her face, holding it close to his.

“It felt like I’d been infected by you,” she murmured, “and I was sick. I was so sick, and I needed you.”

“Sick?” he asked and then kissed her chin, and then her jaw. Sakura’s hips continued to circle and writhe against him, and he was losing his ability to form words now.

“Lovesick,” she explained. “There’s no real cure for that, you know.”

“Ah, Sunflower,” he said, “I definitely know the cure for that.” He pulled her down to the mattress, spooning her against him in spite of her immediate protest. The naked length of his body pressed against hers – that heated fusion of skin becoming reality now that nothing separated their heaving bodies.

She groaned when he pulled her down against his crotch, poising her to take in his hardening length. His face pressed into the back of her neck, the crook of her shoulder, kissing all the skin he could reach.

“Let me show you,” he breathed, and then sheathed himself inside her.


	43. Chapter 43

The lilt of the rain was punctuated by Sakura’s soft sighs and pants, making a right coziness out of Madara’s glowing tent. He’d always been rather fond of the rain, especially as gentle as this rain was. Now that it was accompanied by the sweetest, softest sounds he’d ever elicited from Sakura, Madara knew he’d never again be able to enjoy the sounds of rain without imagining Sakura’s wanton noises as well.

Lantern light flickered throughout the tent, casting orange warmth and dark shadows over Sakura’s bouncing body. Madara had long ago abandoned whatever sense of propriety that had prevented him from wilding out on her in a fit of selfish, frantic thrusts. Even now he could barely stop himself from pounding recklessly into her.

Though something told him she might actually enjoy that.

She tossed herself back against his thrusts in a sort of frenzy that drove Madara near to insanity. That she wanted him so badly sent every nerve in his body up into flames, and it was all he could do to cling to her and piston himself through her slick heat.

“Madara,” she groaned, the syllables curtailed by his incessant pounding. She wrenched her body around, twisting her neck so that she could kiss him, and he was only too happy to oblige her.

He swallowed more of her moans, cradling her head with one hand and holding her hip with the other.

A tight spring was coiling in his stomach; it had been far too long since he’d engaged in any carnal activity, and with his erection currently smothered by the most beautiful creature in existence, Madara knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

There was no particular rush, nor was there a reason that he couldn’t spend the entire night pleasuring her, if that was something she wanted. Still, it seemed ungentlemanly to come before she did.

He reached between her legs, his fingertips flittering across the wetness, the swollen bead of pleasure that sent her mewls up an octave when he tenderly brushed across it with a feather light touch.

The softness of her little thighs against his rock hard ones stoked the fire that was surging up in him. Their slick, sweaty bodies collided over and over again, causing Sakura’s moans to halt and stutter.

And then stars exploded behind his eyes. Sakura’s feminine heat pulsed around him; her cries went up in pitch again. Her body milked his as they both found their release, bodies hooked together like they were made to fit that way. Warmth pooled in his gut – his body felt electric and taut even as he felt himself softening inside Sakura.

Sakura became dead weight against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in as much of her as he could. He could feel all the raised hairs and goosebumps on her body, and the layers of sweat and sex and skin between them suddenly felt like too much. He needed to fold her up into himself, to lodge her pretty little face in his heart where she couldn’t ever escape him again.

Her head settled in the crook of his arm, her fingers splaying idly over his bicep. His muscle twitched under her touch and he hummed deeply with a contented satisfaction that he was sure he’d never known before.

“I love you so much,” he murmured in her ear, holding her in a vice grip. He couldn’t be close enough to her.

“I love you, too,” she whispered as she began to draw shapes and letters on his arm. She was still panting, still glowing from her high, but he couldn’t help but notice that something still seemed to be troubling her.

Asking her might suck the mood from the tent, and Madara was so comforted by her presence and her happiness that he didn’t want to disturb the precarious peace.

So he just held her, soaking in her company and the lilt of the rain and the flickering flame in his lantern. Though there was a chilly sting in the air now, it was warm in Madara’s tent, and this was as close to perfection as he was going to get.

Madara was content to fall asleep this way, but after a few minutes, when Sakura’s tenseness did not dissipate, he could hold his tongue no longer.

“Is something wrong, baby?” he asked, letting his hands wander worshipfully over her body.

She rolled over to face him; he held her still within the circle of his arms. Her gaze was serious, though the glow of her satiety had yet to fade.

“I came here with nothing,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. “It was by total accident. I mean I wanted to come, but I wasn’t expecting this attempt to work.”

The corners of his mouth stretched in a warm smile. “I wondered why you were in your nightclothes,” he said.

“I don’t have any weapons or any of my shinobi gear or medical equipment,” she explained. “I’m a sitting duck here. I have nothing.”

Madara, having experienced all of this before when he had found himself transported to the future, was sympathetic.

“I don’t know about the medical equipment,” he said, “but I can get you new gear and weapons. You’ll need to be outfitted with some clan attire anyway.”

For some reason this made her smile, which made Madara’s smile widen, too.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said reassuringly. “I’m going to take care of you.” After all, she had done the same for him. She’d held his entire livelihood in her hands, and now it was time for him to return the favor. “You aren’t empty-handed. Everything that’s mine is yours, too.”

Another warm smile lit up her face, though she didn’t look up to meet his gaze. Instead, her eyes were focused on some point on his neck – he imagined the freckle above his collarbone. She leaned forward and kissed the spot, and Madara became acutely aware of all the places their bodies touched.

“I wish I had something to offer you in return,” she murmured into his neck.

A low, rumbling laugh burst from his lips, which made Sakura flinch in surprise. He comforted her by smoothing his palm from her shoulder to her elbow.

“I couldn’t think of anything I’d want more than just your company,” he said to appease her, “but if you’re looking for something to offer me, I’ll content myself with your lips.”

She scoffed and he pressed his lips to hers anyway.

“What about my medical services?” she asked. “Won’t you want that?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Probably,” he agreed.

“And I imagine you’ll probably want the research I’ve done on your kekkei genkai as well,” she continued, her own smile lighting up the darkest corners of Madara’s soul. “And my help with your clan mates as far as the curse is concerned.”

“Of course,” he said. “See? You didn’t come empty-handed. You came with that big ole brain of yours.”

Her breath fanned over his collarbone, sending a heated shiver down his spine. Her fingers came up to prod at the freckle on his neck.

“Is that enough, though?” she asked, and her heartbreak was obvious. How could she possibly think she wasn’t enough?

“Well, no,” he teased, “but you’ve brought your body with you, and that’s the best part of you, really.”

She smacked his chest with enough force to make him grunt.

“Kidding,” he said with a grin, enamored with the way her eyes sparked up into vermillion flames.

She didn’t seem truly angry with him, so he pulled her into another kiss, holding her jaw so that he could kiss her with precision and use the kiss and all its tender motions, quivering lips, and warm sighs to show her exactly how much he really loved her.

When she was breathless and blinking with exhaustion, Madara reluctantly pulled his mouth away from hers and tucked her chin beneath his head, cradling her body against his.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” he whispered to the top of her head.

She sighed deeply and shifted against him, nuzzling her face with his chest. The act made his heart soar through his chest and his fingers tremble. Of all the intimacy they’d shared, it was this simple show of naked affection that made Madara’s heart twist and turn in his chest.

“I can’t believe I found you,” she murmured back, nestling herself further into his embrace.

Rain trickled against the roof of the tent, and the lantern was beginning to run out of oil. In the quiet perfection of it all, Madara was able to close his eyes and feel peace.

And when he finally drifted off into the most restful sleep he’d had in six months, he dreamed of little pink-haired, red-eyed children, and the massive house he was going to build for them.

///

The lantern had died some time ago, so it was still quite dark when Madara woke. He knew the sun would be rising soon and he needed to be ready to meet with Hashirama.

During the night he found himself sleeping on his stomach, as he often did. He was tucked against the cot that way now, only Sakura’s sleeping body was perched on top of his. She was on her stomach as well, her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. He could feel her deep, even breaths and he felt a swell of affection for her with each one.

“Sunflower,” he murmured, bowing his body upwards the tiniest bit. “Wake up.”

She mumbled something sleepily and then rolled onto the cot beside him. He might have had the gumption to roll onto his feet then had she not immediately fallen prey to his gravity and settled warmly against his side.

“We have to go meet with Hashirama,” he reminded her, nudging her with his elbow.

Begrudgingly, Sakura pulled herself away from him. As Madara pulled himself up to his feet, he noticed that she was in horrible shape. Dark circles still plagued her eyes; her hair was a conglomeration of knots and tangles; and worst of all he spotted a dark, hand-shaped bruise on her thigh.

He swallowed. “We need to find you some clothes,” he said as he dressed himself quickly in the darkness.

“I’ll just wear yours for now,” she said, tumbling gracelessly off his cot and onto her feet. Madara caught her arm and held her for a moment, worried that it wasn’t just her grogginess that made her stumble.

It was then that he realized she had no seal on her forehead. He caught himself nearly about to ask her what happened to it when it occurred to him that she might have used it against him, and he really couldn’t think about that right now.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You need clothes that fit.”

Sakura simply shrugged as he helped her back into her dirty clothes.

///

It made sense to bring Sakura to the infirmary. She would be spending a lot of time here, no doubt, so it would be good for her to get to know the nurses; and there were plenty of women her size who could likely spare an outfit.

An injury that needed medical attention was rare for Madara, and in the few instances where he’d needed it he’d always been tended to by a medic girl close to Sakura’s age. He remembered that she’d had cropped, sandy hair, and that her entire body (at least the visible parts of it, anyway) was covered in freckles. For this reason, in his mind, Madara had named her Freckles. He’d never thought to ask her real name.

This hadn’t been a problem until now, when he barged into the infirmary’s main tent with Sakura, dirty and bruised, in tow.

Freckles sat behind a short desk, looking confused and rather embarrassed, though for what reason Madara didn’t know. She stood as he stepped toward her desk, bowing her head slightly.

“Good morning, Madara-sama,” she said, her voice quaking. She was nervous and confused, her eyes flitting to Sakura. He didn’t miss the way her eyes darted down to Sakura’s exposed thigh and the bruise that lingered there.

“Good morning,” Madara said sharply, drawing her gaze back to him. “I need clothes that will fit this young woman.”

Freckles blinked at him with confusion.

“Now, please,” he said impatiently.

Obediently, Freckles scurried off into one of the connected tents. As soon as she was gone, Madara turned to glare at Sakura. “Can you heal that bruise?” he demanded, pointing to the offending handprint on her leg.

Sakura erupted in a burst of giggles, fluttering her lashes at him mischievously. “You don’t want people to know how you abuse me?” she teased.

“Sakura,” he said warningly.

“I’ll heal it if you treat that medic with more respect,” she bargained. “I don’t know if that’s what passes for good manners around here, but I won’t have anyone treating my staff poorly.”

Madara blinked, half annoyed and half amused.

“Yes?” she prompted when he did nothing but stare at her.

“Yes,” he tersely agreed, though he didn’t feel like he’d been impolite at all. Maybe a little curt, but this wasn’t Konoha. This was the Uchiha clan at war.

Freckles lurched back into the room with an armful of clothes, her face a frantic and blustering red as she hurried back over to Madara. Having procured a number of different sizes in the standard nurse’s uniform, she piled them into Sakura’s arms and resumed her position behind her desk. Her gaze, timid as a mouse’s, bravely found its way back to Madara.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Madara-sama?” she asked.

“No,” Sakura said on his behalf. “There isn’t.” 

Madara glared dryly at her, though she couldn’t have seen it while she pilfered through the pile of clothing in her arms. When she’d found what she wanted, she tossed the remaining clothes to Madara, who watched dumbfounded while she proceeded to dress herself in front of both him and Freckles.

Poor Freckles resembled a tomato more than a girl by the time Sakura was fully clothed again. Madara passed her the extra clothes in a bout of mercy; it would distract her for a moment, but Sakura was not having it.

“What’s your name?” Sakura asked her as she pulled her hair up into a really messy bun on top of her head.

The nurse’s uniform – a pair of navy pants and a red collared shirt, looked stunning on her. It wasn’t all that different from what she usually wore. The pants hugged her curves like a second skin, and the shirt fit snugly against her waist like her favored vest did. But each sleeve of the shirt bore the Uchiha crest, and this made all the difference to Madara, who found himself drooling over his future wife, Sakura Uchiha, medic extraordinaire.

“Kokuten,” Freckles said, jolting him out of the daze he’d fallen in.

“Nice to meet you, Kokuten-san,” Sakura said, extending her hand to the girl. “I’m Sakura Haruno, and I have a feeling we’ll be getting to know each other quite well.”

Freckles bowed her head respectfully to Sakura, and then again to Madara. It was as much a dismissal as a medic could give to the clan head, but Madara was still feeling merciful, and he’d made her nervous enough already.

“Come on, baby, we’re going to be late to meet my brother,” he said to Sakura, grabbing her by the elbow and steering her toward the tent’s entrance.

“Now hold on a second,” she said, slipping her arm from his grasp. “I think you should apologize to Kokuten-san for your brusque behavior.”

Madara hadn’t felt this level of irritation with Sakura since he had first met her on the cliff side. While he considered himself a proper and respectable man, he felt no need to apologize for brusqueness anymore than he would for breathing air.

“That won’t be necessary!” Kokuten squawked from behind her desk. Her distress apparent, Madara felt a stab of guilt and realized that Sakura was probably right. Even if he hadn’t done anything wrong, per se, his presence still seemed to bring apprehension to poor Freckles.

“Fr— Kokuten-san,” he began. “I hope my appalling behavior hasn’t offended you. In the future, I’ll be less brusque. I’m sorry.”

Freckles looked as though she had been born with the blush on her cheeks. She stammered something unintelligible, glancing furtively up at Sakura and then at Madara.

“Hey,” Sakura said gently to the girl, seeing how upset she still was. She flicked her gaze to Madara, and her emerald eyes landed on him with a fierceness and an underlying amusement that shot right through to his heart. “Don’t be intimidated by him,” she said. “He once pissed off a cliff and then tried to race his own urine to the bottom.”

Freckles giggled, and it was then that Madara had remembered he used to think she was pretty. She still was, only Madara found his tastes had irrevocably changed.

“Alright,” Madara said dryly. “That’s enough. We need to go.”

Obediently, Sakura stepped back into his waiting arms. With a hand on the small of her back, he led her out of the medic tent and into the camp.

///

Izuna was waiting for them at the camp’s entrance, wearing a sour look on his face. Madara met his brother’s steely gaze and then watched as it flicked to Sakura and turned to frost.

They left for the cliff side in silence. Madara hated the tension between the three of them. It didn’t bode well for the future.

Madara kept himself between them, though they both seemed to avoid each other’s gaze and keep a respectable distance.

It killed him.

They were the first to arrive at the cliff side; the sun had only just begun to rise. In the dusky purples and oranges of early morning, they stood on the cliff’s edge, gazing down at what would soon be a village.

Madara turned to face the trees, his eyes drawn to the sturdy oak he had once fallen asleep against.

“This is where I met you,” Sakura said. Madara turned over his shoulder to look at her and paused. He felt his Mangekyou activate, though he didn’t care to stop it. He needed to turn around fully to appreciate her.

The cool glow of the sky behind her illuminated her; winking stars framed her figure. Her gaze was soft on him, the pout of her pink lips full. Her prettiness had never seemed more astounding to him. Looking at her always took his breath away, and he remembered that she was a couple of years older now, and it showed in the shapely curve of her silhouette. 

Had his brother not been there to witness his utter swooning, he would have cupped her pretty little face and kissed her.

“It was different then,” she said, glancing toward the trees. This is where she had liked to come to read, he recalled. And catching her with her perverted book had been the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Yeah, different,” he agreed, though he couldn’t bear to pull his gaze away from her. She was different, too. She was better. Everything was better now. Everything was perfect.

Almost.

“And here I thought you two met in a dream,” Izuna said dryly.

Logically, Madara understood his brother’s mistrust of Sakura, and he realized the higher implications that it would be difficult to get anyone to trust her. That was just the nature of people, and he’d be hard pressed to deny that it was a good thing that his people were guarded enough not to allow this siren of a kunoichi to fuck around in their heads.

Still, it sent a stab of darkness through his head, though he couldn’t complain when his head was in far better shape than it had been in months.

“Sure feels like one,” Sakura murmured. Her tone was light and airy, and she wasn’t looking at Izuna but at Madara. She was rather openly appreciating him, and his heart fluttered under her focused attentions. That she was enamored with him as much as he was with her made him feel a delighted shiver roll down his spine, slow and skittering under her affectionate gaze.

In the distance, Madara felt the approach of Hashirama and his brother, as well as another chakra signature that he presumed belonged to Mito. How fitting that he would bring her along with him for this.

Before Madara could do something foolish, like grin idiotically and sweep Sakura up into his arms, he ambled to his tree to gaze up at its leafy branches. It wasn’t as big now as it had been in Sakura’s time, and for some reason he preferred it that way. He palmed its mighty trunk before hoisting himself up to sit on a low-hanging branch.

Sakura walked over to join him, and since they both needed an excuse to touch each other, she let him help her up onto the branch beside him.

“When I was a little kid I was climbing on this very tree when I fell out of it and broke my arm,” she said to no one in particular, her eyes on the brightening sky. “This was before I knew anything about healing, and I didn’t want Ino to think I was a big baby, so I didn’t even cry. But I did vow to myself that I’d never climb this tree again.”

“This tree has a parallel identity, but it’s not the same tree,” Madara explained. “I’m sure it won’t break your vow to climb this one.”

“I wonder about that,” she mused. “If there is two of everything, one from my reality and one from yours, then that means there will be a version of me here, right? I’ll be born at some point. After all, you still existed in my reality.”

Madara was silent as he thought about this for a moment. His parallel figure had been a villain and a monster, and an old one at that. Sakura’s, though, wasn’t even born yet. An innocent baby.

His gaze flicked to her and he suddenly felt acutely unworthy of her affection. He did not deserve her innocence. He couldn’t help but feel like he would only corrupt her. His clan would corrupt her.

Hashirama’s face emerged from the morning’s mist as he walked down the dirt path. He was flanked by Tobirama on one side and Mito on the other. Mito’s hand was settled in the crook of Hashirama’s arm, and Madara couldn’t help but notice the warm way she leaned into him and the affectionate way he covered her hand with his.

Able to fully appreciate Hashirama’s love for this girl now that his own girl was back at his side, Madara smiled. He’d yet to meet Mito in spite of the fact that Hashirama spoke of her often. It seemed unfair to have to meet her knowing that he’d never again see Sakura, and the jealousy had weighed heavy on him.

Not anymore, though.

“Hashirama,” Madara greeted, smiling warmly at his old friend.

“Madara,” Hashirama returned, giving a smile of his own. “And Sakura,” he added, looking to Sakura’s face. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Sakura tensed beside Madara on the tree branch. The two of them hopped down and came to stand before the new trio.

“Is it?” she asked with suspicion. “I thought you’d be mad about… the whole destroying your silos thing…”

“Oh, yes,” Hashirama said. Madara didn’t like the dark gleam in his eye. “I’m actually quite furious. But I understand that my brother—” He turned to glare at Tobirama. “—treated you unfairly. You were never meant to be a prisoner in our camp.”

Madara grinned. “And here I thought she was a gift from you,” he teased.

“I was hoping she’d be more of a curse,” Tobirama grumbled. His arms were crossed over his chest and he wore a surly expression on his face, as usual.

“She hasn’t told me yet about what happened in your camp,” Madara said, a hint of a warning in his tone. “I wouldn’t want to hear that my future bride has been mistreated in anyway. It wouldn’t be a good way to start off negotiations.”

He felt Sakura’s heated glare on him.

“Future bride?” Hashirama asked with a raised brow. “So am I to believe that her story about being from the future is true? Is that really how you met her?”

“It is true,” Madara said.

Both Tobirama and Izuna let out nearly identical scoffs.

“You can’t both think I’m a spy for the other!” Sakura said with exasperation. “I know it’s far-fetched, but—”

“I believe you, Sakura,” Hashirama interrupted. “Even when I first met you right here on this very cliff I had a good feeling about you. I’m pleased to hear that you and Madara are to be married.”

Sakura whipped another glare in Madara’s direction, and he fought against the swirling darkness that enveloped his head.

“I’ve not agreed to be his wife yet,” she said tersely, “but I know how persistent he is, so I suppose it’s only a matter of time.”

This made Hashirama laugh. He met Madara’s gaze with a sparkling seriousness in his eyes.

“Well you’ve managed to hold up your end of this bargain, so I guess I owe you an early wedding gift.” Hashirama reached into his pocket and procured a little glass vial, which he handed to Sakura while Madara watched them sharply.

“What bargain?” Izuna asked, beating Madara to the punch.

“Sakura told me that she could get Madara to agree to a peace talk,” Hashirama explained. “I wasn’t sure I believed her, but in exchange she asked for a sample of my cells.”

Beside Madara, Sakura was fingering the vial in her hand, her head dropped to peer into its contents. He had a sneaking suspicion of what she wanted Hashirama’s cells for, and the thought made his heart race. The Rinnegan.

“But, by God, she did it,” Hashirama laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day when Madara would ever consider a treaty with the Senju clan.”

“You’re both insane if you think I could really believe this girl came from the future,” Tobirama said.

Izuna took this opportunity to step forward. “I never thought I’d see the day when I agreed with Tobirama,” he said.

“Yet here we are!” said Hashirama enthusiastically. “It seems fitting that we should begin peaceful negotiations now.”

Madara agreed. He was eager to get on with things now that Sakura was here. With darkness plaguing him, there never seemed to be a point to anything. He would inevitably succumb to his curse anyway. But with Sakura here, he could have the life he truly wanted, the life Sasuke could have had.

It would all begin with Konoha, with these negotiations, with his marriage to her.


	44. Chapter 44

The thing about trying to negotiate peace was that it was fucking hard. Sprawled in grass on the cliff side like they were having a damn picnic, Madara and Hashirama did their best to come to some agreeable terms. This, of course, was easier said than done. Between Izuna and Tobirama, and Sakura and Mito, the six of them only seemed to agree on one thing: that it was time to end the war.

Of course the other clans had to be taken into account, too. Coming together to form a village was a lot more work than just agreeing to stop fighting.

It would mean concessions on both sides. It would mean compromise, which Madara could admit was not really his strong suit.

Fortunately for Madara, his future bride had given him a leg up. With the Senju food supplies taking a massive hit, Madara was able to use that as a bargaining chip.

Her medical skills were also a boon to him. Apparently she had healed an injury of Hashirama’s when she’d been with him, and he’d been impressed enough to think that she could actually do some good work with his cells. That her work and research would be of interest to Hashirama gave Madara another card to hold close to his vest.

Though the morning hadn’t gone by as productively as Madara had hoped, they broke for lunch when the sun was high in the sky.

The Senju and the Uchiha parted ways with the promise that they would meet once a week from now on to discuss how best to go about ending the war and founding a new village.

And Madara had a good feeling about it all. What they needed now was to get the other major clans to agree to come together. That would be easy, Sakura had assured him. Once the Senju and Uchiha agreed to stop fighting, the rest of the clans were all too eager to join them, according to Sakura.

He had no reason to doubt this.

But before anything else could be accomplished today, Sakura needed to be taken care of. She still had no gear and no proper clothes. Arrangements would need to be made for her to stay in his tent, and work in the infirmary. She would need to address the clan so that they could understand who she was and why she was here. There were many small details that needed to be taken care.

The first order of business was to show her to the section of the river where the women bathed. Of course they were at war, so the Uchiha weren’t currently living in the lap of luxury. Madara shouldn’t have been ashamed of it, but he couldn’t help but think of the heart-shaped tub from the cottage. That was what Sakura deserved, not some grassy riverbank.

It would have to do for now, though, and so would the set of his own clothes that he lent to her. Once she was fresh and clean and damp, but not in spirit, she returned to his side.

She stuck close to him as he led her through the camp, pointing out different important people as they passed. For the most part, people gave Madara a wide berth whenever he was in the camp. They didn’t break from the norm now, though their eyes were definitely drawn to Sakura’s curious position at his side.

This was another feeling Madara had experienced before, and so it was with sympathetic understanding that he settled his arm around her shoulder and tucked her underneath the protection of his body and his reputation.

He brought her to the tent that made up their armory and saw to it that she was fitted with some proper gear and weapons.

Sakura mentioned in passing that she was a bit disappointed that there had been no red fabric to make her clothes with and that it would feel strange not to wear it. Madara thought any color would suit her fine, but if she wanted red fabric, then he would make sure to get some for her. In the meantime, he quite enjoyed the way she looked in his clothes. Though her body was hidden beneath the clothes that were much too large for her, she seemed more like an Uchiha this way, more like his wife.

After she’d been properly outfitted, he brought her to meet the clan elders. Izuna had arranged for all of them to have lunch together, and Madara found this idea to be agreeable because it meant Sakura would have the best food they had available, and the poor thing looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.

The clan elders seemed suspicious of Sakura, but unlike Izuna, they respected his assessment of her and engaged in polite, if a little terse, conversation with her. She was exceptionally curious about them, not caring that they weren’t all that warm toward her. She asked many questions about clan history and genealogy, and Madara thought her curiosity was kind of cute.

Having Sakura around made everything feel sort of upended. At this point in the day he would likely have been sparring or sharpening his weapons, or maybe even out on the battlefield. His routine being disrupted made him feel on edge, and the somewhat tepid introduction Sakura was making to the Uchiha clan made his heart feel kind of heavy. He truly wanted her to be happy here, and he could tell that there was a usual light in her that he couldn’t see.

It wasn’t until they’d made their way back to the medical tent that Sakura brightened. It was where she belonged – that much was obvious. In fact, it was the only time during the day that Madara felt comfortable leaving her side.

He left her to make all her introductions to the other medics, informing them all that she would be in charge from now on so that they could show her the ropes.

In the meantime, he took that opportunity to settle any other matters related to Sakura’s arrival, including obtaining a larger tent for them to share with amenities for her and an extra cot. It made him feel entirely inadequate to not be able to provide her with the luxury she deserved, but until he could, she would get the best the Uchiha clan could offer.

He didn’t get another moment alone with her until later that evening. Once the sun had begun to set, Madara had gone back to the medical tent to find her.

It didn’t surprise him at all that she had already made fast friends with the medics, including Freckles, whom she embraced before they left the tent and wandered back through the compound. She talked his ear off about her time with the medics and all the plans she had for them.

By the time they’d arrived back at Madara’s tent, Sakura had run out of breath as well as things to say. Madara opened the tent for her and guided her inside, watching her face as she surveyed her new living space.

She frowned, and his heart lurched up into his throat.

“You spent all day doing this for me?” she asked, gazing at the new, larger cot, the additional chests for her belongings, and the assorted trinkets he’d found during the day’s adventure in the hopes that they would please her. She ran her fingers over the velvet blanket he had pilfered from one of the elders, and then flicked her gaze to the little cup of wildflowers he had picked and set next to her cot.

“There were a lot of logistical things to take care of regarding your arrival,” he explained. “I wanted to get all that out of the way so we can focus on ending the war and building Konoha.”

Sakura nodded in understanding, her brow furrowed and her expression serious.

“I know you’re used to a higher standard of living than this,” he said, taking a step toward her and pulling both her hands into his, “but don’t worry. When I build the Uchiha compound, I’m going to build you the biggest house ever. You’ll have a sprawling kitchen and a heart-shaped tub and big fireplace, and anything else you want.”

Her lips spread into a grin, her eyes sparkling under his heartfelt assurances. “What if I want a field of sunflowers?” she teased.

“I’ll plant each flower myself.”

She giggled, and though he’d heard Sakura giggle plenty of times before, there was something different about this one. This one made his heart feel like a pool of jelly in his chest.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” she said.

He blinked, staring down at her with confusion. She seemed impossibly small, at least compared to him, but her radiance seemed to warm up the entire tent suddenly.

“You want to marry me?” he asked in a whisper. It had plagued his mind all day that she had spurned his proposal earlier. He could hardly believe that she’d have changed her mind so quickly.

“Of course I want to marry you,” she said, smiling up at him. “You thought I didn’t want to marry you?”

“You never answered my proposal,” he said coolly, though it was impossible to feel anything but warm when Sakura was smiling at him like that.

She demurred. “I don’t know how much engagement and marriage customs have changed over the years,” she explained, “and there are a lot more important things to focus on right now.”

Madara shook his head and stooped down to lift her up into his arms. She acquiesced, her legs wrapping around his waist. It always felt better to have her up in his arms like this where he could be at her eye-level and kiss her, where she could have her body intimately pressed against his. He could never tire of that feeling; she could never be close enough.

“Nothing is more important than my love for you,” he politely disagreed.

She grinned, and for the first time all day everything was perfect. “You really mean that?” she asked.

He grinned back and then kissed her and then grinned again. “With all my heart,” he said. “I wish I could be married to you this very moment.”

“Mada-kun, will I get to meet any of your exes here?”

The grin on his face faded. “My what?”

She kissed him chastely on the mouth. “Ex-girlfriends,” she said. “Lovers. Trysts. Carnal partners—”

“No,” he said curtly, thinking of all the women he’d bedded over the years. It was unlikely that Sakura would come into contact with any of them. Not like it would matter if she did.

She pouted, which for some reason he found adorable even though it annoyed him. “That’s not fair,” she said, her plump lower lip turned down.

Once again finding himself unable to resist the temptation she provided, he leaned forward and nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth before kissing her mouth with tender leisure. 

“What on earth do you want to meet them for?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

He pulled back just enough to see her face and found that he’d caught her in some sort haze. Her blinking doe eyes snared him, though she couldn’t have even realized. 

“I don’t know,” she said, eyes glimmering, “to see how I compare?”

“Cute,” he said dryly.

“Cute?”

He kissed her again; it felt like this conversation could potentially be tricky. “You don’t compare to them at all,” he growled. 

She made a noise of indignant outrage, which he quelled with another kiss.

“They were all just women,” he said, peppering more kisses from her mouth down to her neck. “Woefully mortal. You, Sunflower, are an angel. A wingless angel.”

“You mean a human?” she asked dryly.

“You don’t want to meet any of them, Sakura,” he said. “I promise. The only women who have ever meant anything to me are you and my mother.”

“Oh, dear god.”

“Is that bad?”

She nodded her head emphatically, but then she kissed him. It was a lazy kiss, interrupted by her slow spreading smile. Annoyed that she seemed amused at his expense, he pulled away.

“What about the women in your clan, hmm?” she demanded. “Don’t you care about them?”

“That’s not the same,” he said with a frown.

“You still have to take care of them, don’t you?”

His frown deepened and he loosened his hold on her a little bit.

“They don’t deserve anything less than I do,” she pointed out, and inwardly Madara agreed. Everyone in his clan deserved the best care he could provide, and when he was Hokage, everyone in Konoha would deserve the same.

“What has this got to do with meeting my former…?”

“Girlfriends?” she asked. “Nothing.” There was a mischievous glint in her eye, and Madara wasn’t sure if this had something to do with the time she’d spent with the Uchiha women who worked in the infirmary or she was just teasing him.

“I never had any girlfriends, Sakura,” he assured her. “None that I spent any considerable amount of time with, anyway.”

“Well, you got to meet Sasuke and judge me by my obsession with him, so you had better come up with someone I can meet that will embarrass you,” she demanded.

Madara’s lips twitched with amusement. He readjusted his hands under her ass and lifted her closer to his face.

“You’ve met my brother,” he said. “Isn’t that embarrassing enough? I’ll give him some time to come to trust you, but I won’t have him treating you like a common criminal anymore.”

She smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. “It must be a cosmic counter-balance,” she explained. “You treat me too well.”

“No,” he disagreed, but she swallowed whatever he had been about to say with another kiss.

He carried her back to her cot and set her down gently. He could hardly believe that he would have her here in his tent every night – her tent, as it now was. It made the dusty sprawl of the camp feel more like a home already. He couldn’t wait to begin building a life with her, to have a home and a family.

“Sakura, I fell in love with you the moment I first saw you,” he said, crawling on top of her.

“As I recall, it took a little longer than that,” she teased, reaching up to tug on his hair affectionately.

He shook his head. “Not true,” he said. “The minute I saw you beneath that tree I thought to myself, ‘my place in the universe is between that woman’s legs.’”

“How fortunate that I remembered to bring them with me, then.”

He grinned and leaned down to kiss her brow. “I wish you could have brought some of your clothes with you,” he said. “I miss your little red sundresses.”

A wave of wistful longing crashed over her face. Her fingers idly played with the ends of his loose hair, her gaze locked onto his.

“I had a pack ready to go to take with me,” she explained. “It had a lot more than red sundresses in it. It had seeds to grow genetically modified crops, textbooks detailing all the advancements of modern science and technology, medical equipment, a laptop filled with videos of jutsus for you to watch and memorize with you Sharingan, oh! And your Rinnegan! Damn, it really sucks that I left that thing behind.”

Madara blinked in confusion. “My Rinnegan?”

Sakura blushed, and Madara found this even more confusing if a little endearing.

“Well, I wasn’t going to let Sasuke keep your eyes,” she said, averting her gaze. “That didn’t seem right. Besides, I knew what had been written on the tablet. I helped him awaken his Rinnegan without ever seeing yours. He didn’t need them, so… I stole them out of your head before your body was buried.”

Madara was paralyzed, unsettled by the thought that Sakura had pulled the eyes from his corpse.

“Don’t worry, Mada-kun, we can still awaken your Rinnegan now that I know how to do it,” she said soothingly, running her fingers up and down his arms. “It would have been much simpler, of course, to just give you the other ones. But with Hashirama here—”

“So my eyes are just sitting in a pack somewhere in Konoha?” he interrupted.

“Well, they’re sitting in a pack in my lab,” she said dismissively. “No one will bother them there. Tsunade-sama will likely find them and—.”

She gasped, and Madara moved back so she could sit up a little higher. “Tsunade-sama will probably try to get the pack to me somehow. She knows it’s got all my research and stuff in it. Everything I need is in it.”

Madara’s brow furrowed skeptically. He didn’t know enough about time travel to refute her.

“Sakura,” he said sternly, pressing against her chest with his face until she sat back against the cot. “How did you accidentally end up here?”

She sighed softly and sadly, so he braced his arms on either side of her head, shielding her entire body from anything that wasn’t him. He could see every pore on her cheek, each freckle, each individual pink eyelash. His breath left him in a whoosh. His lips twitched in restraint; he couldn’t kiss her right now.

“Once I got serious about this research I asked Tsunade-sama to help me out with a lab in the hospital dedicated to it,” Sakura explained, her voice soft, angelic. He kissed her cheek, savoring the feel of her silky skin against the scrape of his jaw.

Then he pulled back just slightly. He needed to focus.

“She agreed,” Sakura continued, “mostly because she didn’t think I could do it and she thought it would appease me to let me try. I guess I sure showed her.”

She chuckled to herself, and Madara was enraptured by the sound of it.

“Anyway, through my research and development phase, I discovered that there was a possible rift in space when using summoning contracts, even ones over short distances. I used my summoning contract with Katsuyu to test this theory. I coated her in a dense layer of my chakra and then re-summoned her. At the exact moment she was between being summoned away and reappearing, I released her from my chakra coating.”

None of this explained how she’d ended up here in her nightclothes, but Madara nodded anyway.

“The space between was the fabric of time,” Sakura explained. “Summoning contracts effectively wrinkle space for a bit. What Katsuyu found there was the infinite number of threads that lead to an infinite number of realities. I summoned and re-summoned her over and over again so we could explore, but there was no way I could find the reality with you in it from an infinite number of them.”

Dismayed by her fraught tone, Madara nuzzled her cheek with his nose. “So how did you find me then?” he murmured.

She drew in deep breath. “Well, for a while, I didn’t,” she said. “I felt proud of myself for what I had accomplished, but ultimately I had failed. I couldn’t get to you. But then one day, I couldn’t sleep. I kept having dreams about you, and that you were just out of my grasp had been weighing heavy on me. I went up to the cliff side.”

“You didn’t bother to put on clothes first?”

“It was the middle of the night, and it’s not like I was completely naked,” she said, bristling. “Besides, thinking about you doesn’t really get me in the mood to put more clothes on.”

She tugged on the mesh of his shirt but he caught her hand, and then kissed it.

“What happened on the cliff side?” 

“I saw something I hadn’t seen in years,” she said. “A big ass full moon in the sky. I was terrified, so I waited for a moment to see what would happen. I was totally defenseless on account of how I’d been almost naked.”

He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. “Then what?”

“Then I saw your face in the moon,” she said, and she was grinning now too. “And my face. And a whole bunch of beautiful children.”

Madara hummed with pleasure, wondering if she would consider letting him put a baby in her right now. She was grinning up at him, and the vast radiance of her smile made Madara’s heart feel like it was going to burst open.

“I figured out time travel all on my own,” she said, “without the moon’s help. But I knew it was a sign. I knew the moon was guiding me back to you. So right then and there, I summoned Katsuyu, coated both me and her in my chakra while a clone of me summoned her, and then once we’d entered the wrinkle I dispelled the chakra coating. It takes an immense amount of chakra control or regenerative power to remain in the wrinkle for any length of time. There’s little oxygen there, and the air is quite unstable.”

She paused and flicked her gaze up to the ceiling, her expression unreadable.

“That was one reason I had started to give up,” she said. “It was hard on my body to be in the wrinkle. When I was there a few nights ago, I… I hadn’t been looking forward to being there exactly, but this time when I was there I had no trouble breathing, and there was one reality thread – a red one. All the others were grey. And so I knew that I had to make the decision right then. I couldn’t wait and potentially lose your thread, so I tugged on it.”

Her eyes glazed over; they floated back down to his face where they glimmered dreamily at him.

“I followed it for a very long time,” she rasped. “In fact, the very last thing I remembered when I woke up on the cliff side was following that glowing red thread.”

“And that’s when you met Hashirama and Mito,” Madara mused.

Sakura nodded. “I only went with him because I thought he could help me find you, but, well, he ended up being kind of charming and we talked all day. I explained to him the truth about everything, and he was really nice to me up until he decided he needed to spend some alone time with Mito.”

Madara smirked, all too familiar with that feeling.

“So he passed me off into the care of his brother,” she muttered darkly, “who treated me like a spy and a criminal with no chance to redeem or justify myself.”

“That’s why you destroyed their silos?”

“I didn’t want to, but I didn’t have any weapons and I wanted to escape without hurting anyone,” she explained. “Tobirama is such a jackass. He was going to try to keep me in a literal cage.”

This made a swell of rage burgeon in Madara’s chest, but Sakura was funneling cooling chakra into his head before the darkness could even appear.

“Don’t worry, I got him back,” she said. “Remember?”

Yes, it had been quite satisfying to watch her punch him, but that wasn’t nearly enough retribution. To keep his bride in a cage! That was an unforgiveable crime.

“No,” Madara said. “Tobirama will pay for that. It’s unthinkable that he would lock you in a cage. I’m sure Hashirama would not have approved either.”

“What difference does it make now?” she demanded. “He couldn’t keep me in his stupid cage, and trying to get revenge now might disrupt peace negotiations. Just let it go.”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled herself up off the cot to cling to him. He cradled her with one arm while she pressed her pretty face into his neck and fluttered her lashes.

“Very well,” he said, his eyes crossing as he felt the lave of her tongue on his skin. “But he is on thin ice.”

She groaned with irritation, her mouth still pressing heated kisses to his throat. “Stop thinking about Tobirama while I’m kissing you.”

He smirked as he pitched his body to the side and landed next to her on the cot. It was just barely big enough for both of them to lie side by side, and Madara had absolutely no problem with that.

“My Sunflower,” he murmured, tracing the smile lines on her face with a reverent fingertip. “You have no idea how much I love you. Now that you’re here, I will never let you go again.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, reaching up with her own fingers to touch his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed her mouth, humming with pleasure and contentedness. A shiver rolled down Sakura’s spine, and Madara pulled her closed, tossing his leg over her body to hold her against him.

“You won’t need to,” he said. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make you happy. I’ll stop at nothing until you have your every desire.”

She giggled, burrowing closer to his body, her face tucked against his neck. “You’re too much, Mada-kun,” she said, even though she was the one who was too much.

He clutched a little tighter to her and kissed the top of her head.

“I love you so much,” he heard her murmur into his neck. Her lips, pressed intimately against his pulse, must have felt his heartbeat start to hammer.

It made no sense that those words would make his heart flutter now. He’d heard her say them before. Still, there was no feeling in the world quite like the most beautiful woman in existence telling him that she loved him.

“I love you, too,” he murmured back as he closed his eyes.

///


	45. Chapter 45

Negotiations for peace did not take long. In a matter of weeks, most of the tedious details had been taken care of. Between Madara and Hashirama, the two of them had managed to convince the other clans that the time had come for them to all come together and cease the senseless fighting.

During this time Madara took great care to make sure that Sakura wasn’t wanting for anything. Ever attuned to her needs, he was always bringing her something to eat, or picking stray flowers to tuck behind her ear.

The clan was becoming accustomed to her now that she had begun to work as a medic. It had taken some convincing, but once most people realized that she was a far better healer than anyone in the clan, she became a fast favorite. People would line up to have their cuts and bruises checked by her.

This annoyed Madara greatly. He hated that there were so few moments to steal with her when she was constantly needed in the medical tent.

But as the fighting subsided, so did the influx of patients she had. In fact, it seemed like hardly any time at all had passed before they were already constructing Konoha.

Sakura was a crucial part of designing the layout of the village, having already lived in it. There were changes to be made, of course. Madara couldn’t help but be angered by the fact that the Uchiha clan had been relegated to the furthest corner of the village. But now with Sakura and Hashirama working together, they were able to come up with a plan that somehow satisfied everyone.

Madara was just happy to begin building. He hadn’t even realized it was something he enjoyed until now. He took major pride in using his own two hands to build a home for him and Sakura. He made sure that every single home in the Uchiha compound was the sturdiest it could be.

Of course Hashirama showed him up with his wood release, teasing him mercilessly about it since he knew this was a source of pride for Madara.

“Things are going well for once,” Madara had muttered to him dryly. They’d spent the better part of the day setting the foundation for the Hokage tower, and it had left Madara feeling exhausted. “Do you always have to stir the pot?”

“Only when it amuses me,” Hashirama laughed.

Madara grumbled something dry and unintelligible under his breath.

Hashirama laughed again and clapped a hand over his shoulder. “Madara, there’s something different about you,” he said, steering Madara back toward the cliff side where Mito and Sakura were probably waiting for them. “A year ago this teasing would have spurred you into a spar for sure.”

Madara said nothing to that. He’d spent a large portion of his life with fighting and sparring being the only avenue for human contact. Now that he had Sakura, sparring wasn’t quite as appealing as it used to be. There were far better touches than punches and jabs.

Not that he hated the idea of sparring with Hashirama right now, he thought to himself dryly. 

“It’s Sakura, isn’t it?” Hashirama asked. “She’s changed you.”

Madara hummed his acknowledgement. It would be impossible for her not to have changed him in some ways. It was the only way she would have fallen in love with him.

“For the better, I think,” Madara said.

“I think so, too.”

The two of them exchanged glances. Something had felt off about their friendship after Madara had returned from the future. It was hard to keep from harboring any resentment for Hashirama, who had won the title of Hokage. It was hard to forget that everything in that reality had worked out for the worst for them and their friendship.

“Are you ever going to tell me about what happened?” Hashirama asked. “I know the gist of the story, but I know you spent a good deal of time in her world. Don’t you want to talk about it?”

Madara shook his head. There was nothing to talk about.

“The only good thing about that place was Sakura.”

“I want to know the future you saw, Madara,” Hashirama said. “I’ve heard hints of things from Sakura that concern me. It doesn’t seem like everything went so well.”

Madara scowled and gave Hashirama a rough shove. “I’m doing everything I can to prevent it from happening,” he said sharply.

“Were you doing it before Sakura got here?”

Darkness pierced him, drawn in by his guilt and anger and frustration. It swept swiftly down into his gut where dread spilled like nausea.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Hashirama,” Madara muttered. “Just leave it alone.”

Hashirama stopped walking, so with a heavy sigh Madara turned and stopped too.

“How did she change your mind?” Hashirama asked. “You’d already seen what happened in that world, yet you waited until she had found you before you made any move to negotiate for peace in this one. What did she say to you?”

“It wasn’t what she said, Hashirama,” he growled. “Let it go. It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s here and everything is going to be fine.”

Hashirama shook his head, and Madara felt pressure against his skull. He could see the stern clench of Hashirama’s jaw, the fierce blaze of determined curiosity in his eye. He would not let this go.

“Why do we need her so badly?” he demanded.

“I need her,” Madara hissed. “She is the only thing that keeps my curse at bay.”

Hashirama recoiled as if he’d been accosted by a foul smell. “What curse?”

“The curse of my clan,” Madara gritted out. He knew Tobirama’s theories on this matter; Hashirama wouldn’t have been unaware.

“She didn’t go into detail, but she told me she needed some of my cells for her research,” Hashirama said. Madara nodded, remembering the samples he had given her. “Does that have something to do with the curse?”

Madara frowned, knowing that it pertained only to the Rinnegan. He didn’t want to share that with Hashirama. “I don’t think so,” he answered. “I imagine it has something to do with your regenerative power or your wood release.”

Hashirama frowned, too. They both stood like that for a moment, silence settling over them like a thick cloud. Madara understood his curiosity, but he couldn’t share all these things with Hashirama. The line they had drawn between enemy and ally was so wafer thin.

That was how Mito and Sakura found them, frowning and staring at one another in silence.

“You boys are playing nice, aren’t you?” Mito asked with a teasing smile. Her gaze was on Hashirama, and her warm affection sluiced through some of the darkness in Madara’s head, even if it wasn’t directed toward him.

Hoping to see one directed toward him on Sakura, he glanced to her. She was wearing traditional Uchiha clothes, and his gaze was first drawn to the Uchiha crest embroidered on her chest. They had not been married yet, but the clan had already accepted her as one of their own. Madara’s pride was endless that they could see the value in her already.

He looked up at her eyes and found concern there, not affection.

“Mada-kun,” she greeted softly, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He obligingly bent down to kiss her and was surprised to feel her chakra flow through his head through her lips. He lingered against her as she whisked away the darkness, sighing into her mouth with relief.

She was smiling when he finally pulled away, and Madara smiled down at her too. She slipped her hand into his and glanced to Mito and Hashirama.

Madara’s gaze followed, and the suspicious glare Hashirama was giving him gave him chills. His gaze then flicked to Sakura, his brow furrowing with confusion as he scrutinized her.

“How’s progress on the Hokage tower?” Sakura asked, her gaze flicking between Madara and Hashirama.

“With the foundation up, we should have it finished in a couple of days,” Hashirama answered. “Most of the clan compounds are finished, so we should be able to start moving everyone in soon.”

Sakura made a soft noise of contentedness. Madara tightened his grip on her hand and tugged her just a little bit closer. He knew she was excited to move into a real house again. Madara had to admit that he was excited about it, too. 

Her version of the village’s layout had placed the Hokage tower at the top with the Uchiha compound on one side, and the Senju compound on the other. The rest of the clans lined the village’s perimeter beneath them. The hospital, which was still under construction, was to be built south of the Hokage tower, which would give Sakura a short commute should she need to rush there for an emergency.

The residential district for civilians was to be built south of the hospital, between a barrier of market streets and the clan compounds on either side of them.

The southernmost section of the village held the academy, the stadium, and the village’s gate, as well as the village’s police force, which Sakura was adamant should be a voluntary vocation for anyone who wanted it. After reading his clan’s history from her reality, Madara agreed.

“You look pleased, Sakura,” Hashirama said.

Sakura nodded politely to him. “I think we all have a very bright future ahead of us.”

Hashirama murmured his agreement and the four of them began to make their way toward the river.

It had become tradition for the four of them to eat dinner by the river once a week both to discuss village business and just to enjoy one another’s company. Mito and Sakura had unsurprisingly become quite close, and Madara knew that Hashirama had a good feeling about Sakura – he’d said as much when they’d begun peace talks.

But Madara wasn’t looking forward to it today. All he wanted was to be alone with Sakura, and maybe have a hot bath.

Sakura threaded her arm through his and drew herself close to his side. Her worried eyes peered up at him, lashes fluttering with coercive charm. She wanted to know the reason for his dark mood.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. He didn’t want to admit what was bothering, even just to himself.

If Sakura hadn’t found him, would he have ended up making the same exact mistakes? Did he really need her to prevent him from becoming a monster?

Sensing that he didn’t want to discuss it now, Sakura glanced away from him, drawing her hand back toward her chest.

“Hashirama, what have you done to make Madara so grouchy?” Sakura demanded.

“What makes you so certain I’m the reason for his foul mood?” he asked in lieu of answering.

They found their usual spot near the river and sat down in the grass together. On Mito’s arm hung a wicker basket filled with food she and Sakura had prepared for them, and she began to pull out containers of soup and passed them around.

“Well, I know it’s not me,” Sakura said, grinning and leaning toward Madara for another kiss. He happily obliged, always grateful for any affections she chose to give him. 

Mito passed him a thermos of soup. It was warm and salty, and it felt good to sip it while he stretched his legs in the grass. He wasn’t really that grouchy anymore.

“It’s not Izuna because they haven’t even seen each other today,” Sakura continued. “So that just leaves you.”

“He might just be menstruating,” Hashirama suggested. “You know that’s why he’s always looking at the moon.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” Madara snapped, though he felt instant shame in the outburst. He hadn’t been able to help his longing gazes at the moon before Sakura had found him. The moon, in all its pale round glory, could very well have been the reason for Madara’s foul mood on any other day. She had helped and hurt him in innumerable ways.

“Menstruate?” Mito teased.

Hashirama and Sakura delved into a fit of giggles, and at first Madara felt a stab of irritation with the both of them, but then something about their interaction gave him pause. Hashirama’s hand was braced against her shoulder and she was doubled over with laughter at Madara’s expense.

Madara often wondered how Sakura was adjusting to life without her friends and family. If it tore her apart inside, she didn’t let any of that turmoil bleed through to her exterior. Madara knew what a tender heart she had and how much she must have missed them.

But there was something about the friendship that she had developed with Hashirama that comforted Madara. He was so much like her master, and Sakura contained the same kind of sun-warmth that the rest of the Senju did. She just seemed to fit so well beside him that Madara couldn’t help but be glad that she had a friend like him here.

“I’m not in a foul mood,” Madara said tersely, though he felt sufficiently softened by Sakura’s presence. “In fact, I feel better than I have in a long time.”

Sakura smiled at that, her face lighting up as she turned toward him, toward the sun. She belonged like that – turned toward the sun, the light gilding her. She was his Sunflower.

“No headache?” she asked him, and he knew she was prepared to heal whatever minor thing may have been bothering him.

He’d once overheard her telling Freckles not to heal every little scrape and bruise a shinobi gets because it could lessen their tolerance of pain, or lead them to feel as if they’re immortal and do more reckless things.

But this wise piece of advice didn’t seem to apply to Madara, who was always on the receiving end of Sakura’s minute medical attention. Even now she leaned across the short distance between them, pressed her palm against his bicep, and funneled her healing chakra to every stiff muscle, every tiny paper cut he had.

“I’m fine, baby,” he assured her, setting down his thermos of soup so he could recline in the grass. With his arms stretched behind his head, he squinted up at Sakura, pleased by the halo of sun around her now.

“You two weren’t fighting, were you?” Mito demanded, so Madara glanced over to her. Her gaze was on Hashirama, and it was sharp.

“Hashirama and I have been fighting each other our whole lives,” Madara said in defense of his best friend. “I don’t think that’s subject to change anytime soon,” he teased, glancing up at Hashirama’s face.

Hashirama was grinning. “No matter how hard the two prettiest women in the universe try,” he added.

Sakura gave him a dry look. “You two were discussing something serious,” she said darkly. “I’m going to find out what it was.”

Something about Sakura’s determination was endearing, even if it was a little annoying, too.

“Oh, no, you won’t,” Madara politely disagreed, snatching the thermos from her hand and setting it down in the grass. Once it was out of the line of fire, Madara pounced on her, pinning her body beneath his.

Sakura squealed with mock frustration, flailing and wriggling around in the grass. “Get off me, you oaf,” she said, smacking his chest with a chakra-less fist.

“What if we were discussing something about you?” he demanded, grinning as she torqued her body to get out of his hold. Behind him he could hear Hashirama laughing. “What if I was getting advice about proposing?”

“You’d better not have that same look on your face while you think about marrying me,” she snapped. “Besides, I can’t see why you’d need Hashirama’s advice for something like that.”

Her wriggling diminished, and Madara took the opportunity to relish the way her body felt underneath his. He stroked the sides of her neck with his thumb, delighting in the sharp shivers that skittered through her body.

“As it just so happens,” Hashirama said, “I’ve already proposed to Mito, and she has agreed to marry me.”

Both Sakura and Madara went rigid for a second, both turning to glare at the happy couple. Mito had the decency to looks ashamed, but Hashirama began to cackle like a mad man.

Madara helped Sakura up onto her feet while she hurled curses in Mito’s direction. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.

Mito glanced down at her feet. “I didn’t want you to feel like our engagement was putting any sort of pressure on you.”

Madara scoffed. Sakura had wanted time to adjust when she first arrived here. Marriage had been the furthest thing from her mind only because she had been worried about how she’d be received by the other Uchihas, or how she’d fit in with the clan.

Now that those worries were far behind them, there was no reason why they couldn’t have been married yesterday.

“Sakura, will you marry me?” he asked her casually as if he was offering her a cup of tea.

“Absolutely, I will,” she said primly. She kissed his cheek, and Madara grinned, too pleased to play along with their game of nonchalance anymore. He swooped her up into his arms and held her tightly against his chest until she squeaked indignantly. He smothered those squeaks with kisses.

Mito and Hashirama clapped and cheered for them, which made Madara remember that he was annoyed by their presence. He’d much rather be in his new home with Sakura, alone.

“Everything I ever wanted is within my grasp now,” he murmured lowly for just Sakura to hear, “and it’s all because of you. My beautiful wife-to-be.”

He felt her grin against the base of his throat, and he felt nearly delirious with joy. He hadn’t expected her to reject a proposal from him, but he had agonized over it for some time now, and it felt good to have it behind him.

Forget that he had wanted to propose to her in a field of sunflowers. He didn’t have time to grow a field of them. He needed to be married to her as soon as possible. She would finally be an Uchiha, the matriarch she’d always wanted to be. He would finally have the missing piece to the perfect life he’d envisioned for himself.

He tucked Sakura’s head into the crook of his shoulder, his gaze flicking warily up to Hashirama’s face. It was hard to miss the look of concern there, even without his Sharingan activated.

Madara knew their discussion from earlier was not over yet.

///

Word of the two engagements spread quickly through the clans. In the weeks following their engagements, everyone began to move into the village.

The alignment of stars felt so nearly right, but something still felt very strange and Madara wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

It was partly because almost everyone knew of Madara and Hashirama’s rivalry. It extended beyond their prowess as shinobi and bled into every part of their lives, which obviously included their close engagements. Rumors had spread like wildfire that Madara had only asked Sakura to marry him because Hashirama had asked Mito first.

It was no secret that both of them wanted to be named Hokage, too, and so Madara was frustrated by the situation and by his lack of control in it.

Sakura, in spite of all the fears she must have had about him, didn’t seem worried in the slightest that the newly appointed village council would vote for Hashirama instead of Madara. She walked around like Madara had already won the title, and Madara wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or horrified by this.

But the more she talked about it, the more time she spent with the villagers, the more he realized that she was campaigning alongside him as if the title would be hers, too, and in a way, it would be.

The Hokage’s wife had a certain reputation to uphold as well, and while Madara had no ill feelings toward Mito, she just couldn’t compare to Sakura.

Sakura was well loved, not just within the Uchiha clan, but amongst all the clans. Her healing hands were the most respected powers on this side of the planet now, and Madara knew that this earned him a huge advantage in the race for Hokage.

Again, though, this made him remember that none of this would be possible without her. He almost felt like a fraud. This success wasn’t all his; he hadn’t earned it.

If Sakura hadn’t appeared, none of this would be happening. He would have succumbed to his curse.

It nauseated him to think about that, especially when he had so much to be happy about. He currently stood in the foyer of the sprawling home he’d built for his future family. He could hear Sakura humming to herself somewhere down the hall, so he followed the sound to their new bedroom.

The furnishings had all been gifts from Hashirama, who was especially proud of the sturdy four-poster bed. He had painted it red, to Madara’s utter horror. It was a garish sight, though he was hard-pressed to deny the quality of the craftsmanship, and he had to admit that he was excited to test it out with Sakura.

Sakura seemed to really like it, which made Madara wonder if it had been some sort of conspiracy between her and Hashirama to saddle him with the grotesque thing.

But none of that mattered to Madara when he entered his new bedroom and found his future bride sitting crossed-legged on the floor, folding what few items of clothing she had collected since her arrival.

That she liked the bed was suddenly his only consolation. He felt an immediate and overwhelming disgust with himself for the lack of possessions she owned. It was his responsibility to care for her now, and he’d let her spend months here with practically nothing to her name.

She beamed up at him as she tucked her freshly folded clothes into the chest of drawers. He watched her as she moved to her feet, her grin wide and disarming. She launched herself into his arms, and he caught her, feeling his own smile widening.

“You built me a house,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest until she tilted her face up to look at him.

“I did,” he agreed before kissing her on the mouth. He attempted to deepen the kiss, feeling very much ready to test out the new bed, but Sakura’s grin could not be contained.

“Mada-kun,” she murmured against his face. “Thank you so much.” She kissed his brow, and he could see the fluttering pulse in her neck up close for a moment. “Thank you for building us this house, and for welcoming me into your family, and for loving me.”

Surprised by her sincere burst of gratitude, Madara could only shake his head. “I should be the one thanking you,” he insisted. “What would I be without you?”

She kissed him again, softly and sweetly. “You’re a good man, Madara,” she said, her gaze a little sharp but still warm. “You’re a little rough around the edges,” she teased, “but in, like, a totally sexy kind of way.”

Madara laughed, his insides feeling like hot jelly. Her gaze became a little heated, and she lifted her arms up to his shoulders, which he took as permission to lift her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

“You really think I’m rough around the edges?” he asked as he rather roughly pushed her back against one towering red bedpost. She gasped, her head bouncing against it while Madara wasted no time soothing the pain with kisses peppered along her neck and shoulder.

“Yes,” she answered, wincing when he nipped a little too sharply at the delicate skin of her throat. “Now put me down. I have to finish unpacking.”

Madara shook his head. “No way, Sunflower,” he said. He’d spent all day with the village’s punch list, helping Hashirama and the other clan heads work on the last few things the village needed. Now he needed the comfort and company of his wife, who wasn’t really his wife yet only because a wedding had been low on the priority list when an entire village needed founding.

Once the council voted for a Hokage, he would marry her immediately, regardless of who they chose.

“Unpack tomorrow, baby,” he said. “Tonight I’m going to put a baby in you.”

Sakura howled with laughter, which annoyed Madara enough that he loosened his grip on her and she was able to slip from his grasp back down to her feet.

“That was a joke, right?” she asked. “Because I can’t even think about having children until the village is stable and flourishing. I don’t want to raise your sons and daughters without the surety of—”

“You’ll have a stable village, silly girl,” he teased, stooping down to steal a quick kiss from her reddening face. “Don’t make me wait too long. I want to have ten children, you know, and you’re not getting any younger.”

With indignant outrage, Sakura smacked haphazardly at his chest.

“You know I’m teasing you,” he said, unable to contain his laughter while he caught her flailing arms. “I’m older than you, remember?”

“Barely,” she hissed, but she was smiling, too, and she didn’t seem too concerned about unpacking her clothes anymore.

“You know I’m going to give you and our children everything you want, right?” he asked, pulling her just a little closer to him. “I’m going to make sure Konoha is the best village in all the nations. My perfect wife and children will deserve nothing less.”

Sakura’s grin looked like it hurt her cheeks. Madara only saw a glimpse of it before she was pressing her face into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. “We don’t know about the kids yet,” she said into his chest. “They could turn out to be brats.”

“Not with a mother like you.”

“Or with a father like you.”

She breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of him. Madara palmed the back of her head to keep her there.

“You think I’ll be a good father?”

Sakura tilted her chin to look at him, her eyes glimmering knowingly. “Of course you’ll be a good father,” she said. “You love very fiercely, Madara. I know you will always love and protect our children the same way you love and protect me. The same way you’ll love and protect Konoha when you’re Hokage.”

Madara felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Sakura’s faith in him was invigorating and her body against him was titillating. The combination left him feeling a little high on her, high on the future with her that was inching closer and closer everyday.

He wished she’d let him put a baby in her.

///


	46. Chapter 46

Feeding a village the size of Konoha was a beast outside of Madara’s area of expertise. While he’d been competent at feeding his own clan, it took a much more massive scale of agriculture to feed an entire village’s worth of people.

Luckily for Madara, Sakura knew a thing or two about what exactly it took to take care of a village on account of her Hokage master. In fact, Sakura seemed to have a knack for everything related to the title of Hokage. Not only had she begun preparation immediately for the planting of crops, but she had already begun to consolidate what cattle was spread throughout the clans into one major farm that was situated on the outside of Konoha’s eastern wall.

The farm went on for acres and acres, which meant that Hashirama had been instrumental in clearing out the wood. It had been a project entirely of their own two minds. Madara had given little to no input whatsoever.

Of course Madara had been busy with his own projects in the meantime. Starting up a village had all kinds of logistical things that needed attention ranging from building codes to business licenses and taxes and budgets and many other sorts of boring things that Madara was less than thrilled to have to deal with should he be named Hokage.

The whole situation made him honestly consider that Sakura would be a far better Hokage than he would be. She was the one with the experience, the golden heart, the compassion for others. Madara just knew that he would pale in comparison to her, or even just to Hashirama.

He had wanted the title for so long, but now he couldn’t even remember why. He had always wanted power and strength, the ability to protect those he loved. The title of Hokage had seemed the best way to achieve that, but if Hashirama had the title… If Sakura had the title…

A flare of chakra from the east caught his attention and refocused it.

It had been nearly a month since Konoha’s construction was completed and three weeks since everyone had moved in. During that time, the farm had been subjected to raids and pillages from rogues and thieves so Madara had assigned squads of shinobi to keep watch over it at all times.

Now as he raced toward the farm, he could tell that the squad – a pair of Uchihas and an Akimichi – had engaged an enemy.

He wasn’t too worried; he could tell that this foe wasn’t too powerful and that the squad had everything under control.

Still, it irked him that his reputation had not preceded him, that people still dared to steal from his village.

When he arrived at the farm, everything appeared to be in order at the barn and in the cow pen. Flares of chakra, however, were emanating from the rice fields.

Eager to step in and see some action that didn’t involve construction, Madara fled toward the rice fields.

Mika and Daichi Uchiha were engaged with a handful of rather rough looking thieves, though Madara could tell just by looking that they were civilians and not shinobi. Madara couldn’t remember the Akimichi’s name, but he recognized the clan symbol on his breast and saw that he was trading blows with another thief.

This was the opportunity Madara had needed to spread word through the nations about his village – a village of compassion, but also of might and strength and intelligence.

He activated his Mangekyou, and the sheer power of it made every head in the vicinity turn to look at him – even the thieves, whose ability to understand the mysterious chakra they were feeling was naught. Everything seemed to freeze for a moment, save for one kunai, errantly thrown, that thudded softly in the grass a few yards from Madara’s feet.

“Madara-sama,” said Daichi, bringing his feet together and standing at attention. “We caught these men pilfering through the barn. They are civilians, but they are armed. We were arresting them to take before the council.”

Madara’s gaze was on Daichi for approximately one second before he’d turned his gazes to the offending thieves. There were eight of them total, including the one the Akimichi had stopped fighting momentarily to hear Madara’s orders.

“Well, I can’t believe that a fine group of men like this would pilfer through our barn,” Madara drawled, eyeing the largest one in a way that was meant to make him feel insignificant. “I’m sure the lot of you were just passing through, weren’t you?”

The thieves all demurred under Madara’s attention, and that was certainly wise. Madara radiated a kind of power that they had probably never known, and they could tell that listening to him would be in their best interest.

“Yes, sir,” one of them said with a quaking voice – one riddled with a rough country accent. “We was just passing through.”

Madara gave the man – boy, really – a terse smile. “Well, then I appreciate you getting on your way,” he said, flashing his dangerous eyes. The plates of his Susanoo began to form around him. This was something that was mostly outside Madara’s control when he was angry, but now he allowed the pieces of armor to surround him if only to intimidate his prey.

The thieves, all eight of them, began to run in different directions, scattering themselves through the rice fields. The squad of shinobi tensed until Madara relinquished his Susanoo.

“Let them go,” Madara said softly for only them to hear.

Louder, he turned toward the rice field and said, “Come here to steal again and I’ll show you what these eyes are really capable of.”

He could sense their fear as they ran, and he hoped they would tell everyone they knew that the Konoha farm was off limits.

“Why did you let them go?” Mika demanded as the squad drew nearer to Madara. “They deserve to be punished for trying to steal from us.”

Madara watched her approach, eyeing her up and down. She was quite young, probably only fifteen or sixteen, but she had awakened her Sharingan and was quite adept with it. Anger exuded from her in waves, and Madara felt a stab of sympathy for her because it had been quite a while since anger had rooted in his head hard enough to cause pain like hers.

“They will be punished if they return, Mika,” Madara said coolly, displeased by her questioning his decision. “You’ll see to that, won’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “They’ll go off and warn their friends. If more groups show up, let them go with a warning, but do not let them steal anything. If any group persists after your first warning, you may use lethal force.”

Daichi and Mika did not look impressed with these orders. They were likely too compassionate for Uchiha tastes, but Madara could admit that his tastes had changed.

“If they return, I will brutalize them,” Mika said fiercely. Madara made a mental note to ask Sakura to assess the state of Mika’s curse as soon as possible.

“Daichi,” Madara said sharply. Daichi had been named the captain of this squad, and at the sound of his name, he straightened his spine accordingly. “Are there a lot of repeat offenders pillaging the farm?”

“No, Madara-sama,” Daichi said. “They are mostly civilian scavengers looking for food. Rarely do they come back after we’ve chased them off.”

Madara frowned. Hungry civilians surrounding his village was definitely not a good thing. He needed to find out where they were all coming from and whether or not there was something he could do to help.

///

Madara wandered through the residential district, gazing up at the empty buildings. There were no civilians here yet, and Madara realized that the civilians he had seen in Konoha had slowly migrated there for protection after wars had begun to break out throughout the five nations. Madara wasn’t completely unaware of Konoha’s history.

He knew that these buildings would remain empty for a time longer, and when the first Konoha had been built, this district had probably been the last thing constructed. Now, though, Madara needed to ensure that those he would have to protect would be covered within Konoha’s walls. That was why the clan compounds had been built around them.

Logically, it all made sense, but Madara hated to walk through the emptiness of it all. Nothing seemed as vibrant as it had that first time he’d walked through Konoha with an unconscious Sakura thrown over his shoulder.

But if the thieving at the farm was anything to go by, there was no reason to wait for immigrants to fill these buildings with people. There were people right here, just beyond his village wall, that needed his help.

Not that long ago, Madara might not have cared about them. Not that long ago, Madara cared for nothing other than his own clan, his own happiness.

Now he couldn’t find it in himself to ignore them. Sakura had been a civilian at one point. A child. Perhaps her family, the Harunos, were among those outside the village, waiting for whatever scraps the thieves managed to loot.

It unnerved him to think about that.

A large shadow loomed across the ground suddenly, and Madara looked up to find his brother leaping from the rooftops to land deftly in front of him.

“There you are,” Izuna said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He glanced around the empty buildings and then back to Madara with confusion. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

Madara didn’t have an answer for that other than his own aimless wandering. “You were looking for me?” he asked, avoiding the question.

Izuna scowled. “I just saw Hashirama and Tobirama at the Hokage tower,” he growled. “They were with the council, probably schmoozing. I think you ought to go intervene. You can’t let Hashirama be chosen over you for Hokage.”

Madara was privy to Hashirama’s brand of schmoozing, and while it was possible that the council might be affected by it, it was far more likely that Hashirama was just goofing off.

“I’d really rather not today,” Madara said. “The council will choose as they see fit. One night in Hashirama’s company won’t sway their vote.”

“Madara,” Izuna said sharply, his gaze harsh like steel. “You cannot become complacent toward the Senjus. They will usurp us the moment they get the chance.”

With a heavy sigh, Madara clapped his brother on the shoulder and began to steer him down the empty street. “The Senjus aren’t our enemy anymore, brother,” he said.

“You only say that because Sakura might as well be one.”

Surprised, Madara gave Izuna a curious stare.

“Surely you’ve noticed it in her demeanor!” Izuna said. “She acts just like them.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Madara asked with a raised brow. And then, realizing the further implications of what his brother had just admitted, he stopped and turned to face him. “Do you dislike Sakura?”

Izuna flushed under his accusing glare. “No, I just… She spends a lot of time with Hashirama and Mito.”

“So do I.”

Izuna’s resulting glare was fierce. “It’s not your loyalties I’m worried about.”

Madara tilted his head in confusion. “You’re worried about Sakura’s loyalty? To who? Me?”

“To the clan!” Izuna said, throwing his arms in frustration. Madara could see the tension in him boiling just under the surface. “To our family!”

Madara laughed, remembering Sasuke, and Sakura’s utter loyalty to that bastard. If Sasuke could command that kind of loyalty, then Madara could easily have it as well. He did, in fact.

“She’s to be my wife, Izuna,” Madara said calmly. “She might as well have Uchiha blood in her veins.”

“But she doesn’t.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s Senju blood so I don’t see what the big deal it.”

“If she’s causing this apathy you have toward becoming Hokage, then it’s definitely a big deal,” Izuna said through gritted teeth.

Madara began to walk again, so Izuna fell back into step beside him.

“If I become Hokage, then it will only have been by Sakura’s hand,” Madara said. He grinned, thinking of her. She was likely at the hospital now with her gaggle of medic-nin recruits. It hadn’t been difficult at all for her to amass a sort of following amongst the other clans, and many clamored to be taken under her expert tutelage.

Her vibrancy certainly helped. Madara understood like no other how impossibly easy it was to fall in love with Sakura, and her infectious laugh and endless compassion. It pleased him to see that the people of his village adored her.

Except his brother, that is.

“So you say, but you’re letting Hashirama get ahead of you in this race,” Izuna said, nearly pouting.

“It isn’t a race, Izuna,” Madara said. “The future of Konoha hinges on this decision. It’s not a game, nor anything to be taken so lightly. I trust the council to make the right decision, and if they chose Hashirama then I will respect that.”

Izuna’s eyes blazed with fury, but he didn’t speak a word. He kept his pace even beside Madara, but the tenseness radiated from him in waves.

“You need to let go of your anger, Izuna,” Madara said. “It’s clouding your judgment.”

“Or maybe it’s that conniving little—”

“I beg you not to finish that sentence, brother,” Madara said, glaring harshly at Izuna. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

“Or maybe it’s that conniving little bitch who’s clouding your judgment,” Izuna spat. Darkness spilled into Madara’s head, speckling his vision. “What happened to you? You’re supposed to be our leader! Do you really want to see the Senju ruling over the Uchiha?”

Madara felt rage burbling up in his chest. “I want to see a village filled with happy people and a home filled with my beautiful wife and children,” Madara growled. “You cannot let your hatred of the Senjus effect your judgment like this. You can trust Hashirama, and you can trust me. Regardless of which of us is chosen, we will both protect the village the same.”

“Maybe we can trust Hashirama, but you know we cannot trust Tobirama,” Izuna argued. “He’s constantly whispering filthy lies about us in his brother’s ear. We can’t just ignore it!”

Heaving another sigh, Madara nodded. Even Sakura had seen that Tobirama’s hatred for the Uchiha clan ran deep. And Madara could never forget that Tobirama had slain Izuna in her reality.

“You’re right,” Madara agreed. “Something will have to be done about Tobirama.” He would ask Sakura later what she thought about the situation. “But not by you,” Madara added quickly. “You stay away from him.”

A puzzled expression twisted Izuna’s face. “Why?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Madara said, giving him a rough shove. “I’m in the mood for a spar.”

///

Sparring was a language much easier for Madara to speak, and he and his brother had their own unique way of understanding one another. A spar with Izuna wasn’t like a spar with any of his other clan mates or peers.

With Izuna it felt more like dancing. A vicious, violent jaunt, a whirl of smoke and flame. It was always elegant, extravagant, if a little self-indulgent. Madara always found his best impromptu feats, his most impressive displays of skill when paired against his brother.

He’d honed his Mangekyou skills against his brother’s sharp talent, learned how to properly wield his Susanoo and use chakra more efficiently in his eyes.

But this spar was something different. Izuna was loaded with anger that hadn’t faded one bit since they’d started. Madara could feel it building behind every jab and kick. Madara, too, felt a little residual anger. Izuna had called Sakura a bitch, and Madara felt he owed her a duty to win this spar in her honor.

The explosive session was fraught with more frantic fury than Madara had felt since before he’d met Sakura and he hated to think of the kind of pain that Izuna was enduring. If only he would let Sakura help him…

This compassion for baby brother did not prevent him from pulverizing Izuna, even if it had been a close match. Madara’s prowess was too great with his Mangekyou and Izuna was too distracted by his own anger to stay focused.

And when it occurred to him that an injured Izuna would be treated by a very compassionate and eager-to-please Sakura, Madara found that he felt no twinge of guilt for perhaps being a bit rougher than usual.

That was how Madara found himself sitting at the foot of a hospital bed, staring at the hole he had slashed into his brother’s side. The gore of it reminded him of when Sasuke had returned from killing Itachi and the strange parallelism of that was not lost on him.

One of Sakura’s eager recruits had shown them to this room and told them to wait, but not before she’d packed Izuna’s wound with gauze. Not even thirty seconds after she’d fled from the room did Sakura burst through the door, her eyes wild with panic.

Madara stood to greet her. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We’re both okay. It was just a zealous spar.”

Sakura’s gaze softened and then flicked to Izuna. Her eyes widened and she rushed to his side. Madara watched as she poked and prodded and the bloody mess before he glanced away. Just like when she had healed Sasuke.

“You fucking fool,” Sakura snapped at Madara. “Do you know how easily you could have killed him?”

Madara didn’t know, and he didn’t want to think about it, nor did he want to remember that in the moment he’d been angry enough to hurt Izuna far worse than this.

Taking his silence as apathy, Madara scoffed. “Look at him,” Sakura mumbled to Izuna. Madara could now see the green glow of her chakra filtering through the wound. “He doesn’t even care. He wasted my time and almost killed you and he’s just over there smiling like an innocent bastard. I’m a very busy woman, you know. You can’t play around like this and expect me to heal you guys all the time.”

Madara wasn’t smiling, but Izuna was for some reason.

“Dear brother, I’m not the only one you’ve annoyed today,” Izuna said with a laugh, wincing slightly.

“Mada-kun, have you been getting on Izuna’s nerves?” Sakura asked.

“And you can see by the state of him that he’s been getting on mine,” Madara said curtly. “He deserves every bit of this.”

Izuna’s smile vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced with a scowl again. “I deserve a medal for putting up with your insufferable ass,” he snipped.

Curious and confused, Sakura glanced to Madara and caught his gaze. He gave her a look; he’d explain everything later. Or maybe he wouldn’t. He wasn’t thrilled by the idea of telling Sakura that his brother had called her a bitch.

“Our discussion isn’t over, Madara,” Izuna said. “We need to—”

“You’re going to have to shut up while I’m working,” Sakura said, tossing Izuna a dry look. Immediately her gaze softened on his face. “Do you have a headache, Izuna?”

Madara did not believe his brother would allow what Sakura was about to ask of him, but he was curious to see this interaction nonetheless. He planned not to intervene at all so he could see how Izuna responded to the gift he was about to be given.

“Always,” Izuna snapped.

Sakura hummed thoughtfully, but said nothing. Her gaze drifted back down to Izuna’s wound, and with her focus concentrated on it, she finished healing it quickly. When she had pulled her hands away from him, Izuna looked down to where the gaping hole used to be and let out a low whistle.

“There isn’t even a scar,” he said, and Madara smirked at the approval in his voice. Sakura’s work could speak for itself.

“Of course there isn’t,” she said teasingly. “I’m not an amateur. Now if you’d like, I can see what I can do about that headache you’ve got.”

Izuna tensed, his features drawn into a suspicious glare. “And let you prod around in my head?” he scoffed. “No, thanks.”

“Take care of mine, then,” Madara said, reaching across Izuna’s legs to grab Sakura’s hand and pull it up to his temple. “Izuna managed to work up quite a rage in me.”

He was smiling at he said it, mostly because Sakura’s fingers were impeccably soft against his face and he suddenly wished Izuna were gone so that he could let those fingers touch other more sinful places on him. But the pain in his head was still very real, and he needed her healing touch first.

“Rage?” Sakura asked with surprise. “You’ve been in such good control of your emotions lately. I hope you two aren’t fighting about something serious.”

Her gazed flicked to Izuna.

Madara pulled her around the foot of the hospital bed and pushed her to sit against the mattress beside Izuna’s legs. Izuna shifted away from her, but Madara saw that his focus was on Sakura’s hands and the chakra she was funneling through Madara’s temples.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Madara said softly to her, resisting the urge to touch her waist or cover her hands with his. He’d grown accustomed to holding her while she cleared away his darkness, but he wanted to save that affection for when his brother wasn’t trying to understand Sakura’s abilities.

So he kept his hands on his knees as he sat on the little stool beside Izuna’s bed and Sakura found a space between his knees. In spite of his restraint, Sakura was tender and sweet, tucking his hair behind his ear, running the pad of her thumb over his brow. Skitters of delight jolted through him; he loved those tiny shows of affection best. He loved how Sakura looked at him with glittering, admiring eyes.

And he relished the feeling of her tepid chakra spilling through his skull, brushing away the darkness and tightness and pain.

“What are you doing to him?” Izuna asked.

“I’m using chakra to alleviate the pressure that the curse puts on his head,” Sakura explained. “The nerves that connect the Sharingan to the brain aren’t like regular optic nerves. They expand through your entire brain; it connects your kekkei genkai to every part of your mind. That’s why emotions affect your eyes like that. It’s why when you feel a dark emotion, it spreads throughout your whole head and then finally to your eye where it physically manifests itself by either activating or awakening you Sharingan.”

Madara listened raptly, but his gaze was on Izuna who was staring at Sakura with unblinking eyes.

“I’m using precisely controlled chakra to flush away the inflammation caused by Madara’s anger, which loosens the nerve and relieves the pressure,” she continued. “Then I follow that procedure with a wash of ‘chilled’ chakra which feels like a cooling sensation and eases the pain.”

It was pure magic as far as Madara was concerned, but Izuna stilled seemed skeptical. Sakura noticed his dry gaze, too, but she simply finished healing Madara’s headache and stood up to kiss his brow.

“I know how you Uchiha men are,” Sakura said to Izuna. “You don’t want people poking around in your head, and I get it. You’re absolutely right to fear me because it would take one swoop of chakra through your head to kill you. And I’m sure that in comparison to that threat, dealing with a minor headache is nothing.”

Madara was skeptical that this could chip at Izuna’s icy armor, but to his surprise, Izuna bristled.

“I’d hardly call it minor,” he snapped. “And don’t think I’d be done in by some brush of fingers from a little girl.”

Sakura, usually a waif of poise and grace, bristled too. Madara stood up beside her, ready to intervene on her behalf even though he knew all too well exactly what Izuna’s thought process was. His had been the very same when he’d first met Sakura. But they were well past the first meeting now.

“See what I’ve been dealing with all day?” Madara said to Sakura. To Izuna, he turned and glared. “Just let her get rid of your headache. We’ll all be a lot better off.”

“So she can cast me under what lovejutsu she’s got you under? I don’t think so.”

Sakura let out an abrupt giggle. “Did you hear that, Mada-kun? A lovejutsu,” she laughed. “How fortunate for me that it worked!”

“Okay, let’s be real, I’m the one who has you in a lovejutsu,” Madara teased, knowing that he was lying out his ass.

“You two make me sick,” Izuna said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “If the future of the Uchiha clan is your pathetic blubbering over each other and a Senju ruling over us, then I want nothing to do with it.”

He leapt to the ground, pausing for a moment to inspect his former wound. 

“Izuna, you’re even more foolish than your brother,” Sakura said. “Do you really think I traveled all the way from my reality just to see things end up the same way here as they did there?”

“What things?” Izuna asked suspiciously.

“Thing that don’t matter because they aren’t going to happen with Sakura here,” Madara said.

Izuna tossed him a look.

“I promise you, Izuna,” Madara said. “We’re going to build an Uchiha clan stronger than this universe will ever see.”

But Izuna’s skepticism persisted.

///


	47. Chapter 47

Madara dragged his eyelids open, groaning when a chink of light seared across his vision. He tugged at his arm to block the sunlight when he found a heavy weight holding it against the mattress.

Wincing, he blinked and looked down at his wife’s sleeping face smushed against his bare chest.

He smiled lazily and rested his cheek against the top of her head. They’d been married officially a week now, the very day after Madara had been named as Hokage.

It had been through a combination of efforts that Madara was chosen. As it turned out, Sakura’s brand of schmoozing was far more effective than Hashirama’s brand. With her level of charm, Madara’s new reserved style of leadership, and the success of their joint ventures – the hospital and all the other logistical things Konoha required – the council had decided that together they were an excellent team more than capable of running the village.

Hashirama had been a gracious loser, and when they’d shaken hands after hearing the news, Madara swore that he saw a smirk on his friend’s face, like this had been the plan all along.

With a sigh, Madara shifted onto his side, curling his body around Sakura’s. Her body, still deep in slumber, molded against him as he buried his face in her hair and sucked in the scent of her. She no longer smelled like coconut and cucumber, but the smell of her was sweet enough.

He really ought to have been getting dressed by now but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from Sakura’s warmth. The sun was beaming through their open bedroom window, and the red spires of the bed frame made him squint. They’d made good use of this bed so far, Madara thought to himself, smirking at the memory of all the rigors through which they’d put the bed.

“To test its sturdiness,” Sakura had explained primly just before she allowed him to pound recklessly into her while she clung desperately to one post.

Madara kissed the top of her head, growing hard at the memory.

Sakura, who was very attuned to needs like that now, stirred at the feeling of something hard and curious against her back. She flipped over to face him, still bleary with sleep in the cocoon of his arms. When her eyes blinked open they fell on his chest, and she hummed with appreciative contentedness. With a palm against his heated chest, she pushed herself back just a bit so that she could see his face too.

Her gaze laved over him, washing him with warmth and desire. Her slow grin made his heart squeeze tightly.

“I wonder what it would be like to see you with the Sharingan,” she mused. “I don’t see how you could look more perfect than you do now.”

Her fingers splayed across his arm, trailing approvingly over his toned, corded muscles. Her face inched closer to his bicep until she was close enough to press her lips there and hum.

“More perfect than the men in those perverted books you like to read?” he teased, his voice still raspy from disuse.

“More perfect than any man, fictional or real,” Sakura purred, sliding her leg over his waist to hoist herself on top of him. “I pinch myself everyday to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

Madara growled and rolled on top of her and let all of his weight rest on her. She squeaked as the breath was forced from her body.

“If you keep saying things like that, the village won’t have its Hokage today,” he said, running his hands over the parts of her body he could reach.

“They can manage for one day, can’t they?” Sakura asked, though her voice was severely muffled by the buffer of his chest. “I need my husband.”

He shifted down so he could nuzzle his face against hers, and then her neck and her shoulder and her chest. She was silky and warm and cozy, and even though it was garish to look at, Madara never wanted to leave the comfort of his bed.

“What do you need me for, baby?” he purred. “Let me help you.”

Sakura stretched and mewled beneath him, creating delicious friction between their skin. Her nipples brushed against his chest and he felt them tighten.

“Is this what you need help with?” he asked with a sly grin, reaching to pinch one rosy nipple.

She cried out softly and arched up into him again, and the immediate flush that spread through her naked body made Madara’s length harden even more. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him, still a little slow and sleepy with morning grog.

“I have a special request, Mada-kun,” she murmured into his mouth.

“Oh?” he asked, wondering what perversion his Sunflower had thought up now.

She lowered herself back down against her pillow, her wispy hair feathered around her face like a disheveled halo. Her eyes were serious, and Madara made note of this though he didn’t spend much time wondering about it. It still stunned him that she was his wife and that she loved him. A creature so perfect shouldn’t be walking the earth at all, let alone sharing a bed with the likes of him.

“I want you to put a baby in me,” she said.

He blinked for a moment, surprised but happily so that she wanted such a thing already. He’d been convinced that she would need some cajoling. 

Yet he’d been convinced of that when they’d been back in her reality, too. He never believed she’d leave all that behind, but she did, and without him even asking her. And here she was again, doing the same thing.

“Unless you’re not ready,” she amended, her brow creased with anxious worry. “It’s just that I’m ovulating now and there’s a good chance—”

Madara bent down and kissed her, languid and tender but with a burning eroticism that left Sakura trembling beneath him. He shivered when her fingertips skittered up his chest before tangling themselves into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m ready, baby,” he said, biting her lower lip before sucking it into his mouth, perhaps a little too roughly. Sakura gasped into his mouth, still clinging to him until he pitched himself onto the mattress beside her and grabbed forcefully onto her hips. He situated her ass against his crotch, shivering when the heated contours of her body pressed against his hard length.

With one hand, Madara cradled her against him and with the other he lifted her leg into the air and hooked her knee around his arm. He could already feel her wetness and it filled him with pride to know he could turn her on so easily. Using the hand beneath her leg, he grabbed the side of her face, fingers tangling in her silky soft hair, and turned her to look at him.

She craned her neck around, stretching so that she could kiss him while she pushed her ass against him. He indulged in her kiss while trying to keep her frantic wriggling at bay. All traces of sleep had vanished from her. Her skin was pebbled with goosebumps; her body was a taut coil against him.

“Were you having dreams about me?” he whispered to her, guiding himself into her. He pulled back to watch as he pushed his entire length into her slowly. Her mouth dropped open and a near silent gasp escaped her. She nodded and then let out a sweet sigh of pleasure.

“All my dreams are about you,” she said, already beginning to move her hips back against his.

 

The slick warmth of her movement sent electric currents rippled through Madara’s body. He lifted her leg up higher, forcing her to stop. Control would be his today; he needed it.

Slowly he began to thrust into her, teasing her with languid, lazy strokes. “Do you love me?” he asked, brushing away the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck to press adoring kisses there.

Her body, twisted as it was in his grasp, strained to press against him, but he held her aloft so he could keep his thrusts nice and easy.

“More than anyone,” she said.

He kissed her again, holding her neck in a vice grip. Sakura’s kisses were wildly erotic, and wanted to tame her as best he could for right now. This was going to be something special.

Attempts to slow her down were met with her frustrated growls, which amused Madara enough that he chuckled into her mouth.

“My sweet Sunflower,” he murmured and kissed her again, timing the slow cadence of his thrusting to the sensual rhythm of their kiss. She clung desperately to his arm, her body twisting around to face him while he reached around her stomach and pressed his fingers to her throbbing clit.

She cried out and arched away from him, so he took the opportunity to speed up his thrusts, earning another sharp cry. With slow, tiny strokes, he rubbed and rolled and explored her, relishing in the feel of her slickness against his fingers, her pulsing flesh sliding all around him. The pleasure was dizzying, and Sakura’s staccato groans heightened the feeling.

“Madara,” she hissed, her body now limp as he pounded faster and faster into her.

The sound of his name gave him heady pleasure and he gripped her hair tightly to pull her into another kiss, ignoring her pained yelp.

Sensation whirled in Madara’s head, spilling down into his gut and spreading fire through his veins. There was nothing quite like this feeling, nor anything so fulfilling as hearing Sakura’s satisfied moans as he thrust harder and faster, his pace quickening with his growing desire, his inability to control the desperately speeding metronome of his lust.

Sakura tore away from their kiss, her body convulsing, so smooth and warm and beautiful against him. He clung to her, pounding away, gritting his teeth against the fluttering, pulsing orgasm that made Sakura pitch herself nearly face first into the mattress.

Color and light bloomed behind his eyes as pleasure erupted through his body like a massive wave, superheating him while he wildly chased the sucking, burning, explosive feeling. He felt himself empty inside her; Sakura shivered as he pulled her so that her back was flush against his chest.

His spotted vision swam in blurs of pink and red and the navy walls behind while he and Sakura panted together, their bones softened, their bodies slackened. He nuzzled the back of her head with his nose, sniffing the sweet scent of her hair and the pungent aftermath of their sex.

“We should start every day like this,” Sakura mused, her voice raspy.

“You’re the Hokage’s wife, baby,” he said, grinning lazily, cocooned in her satiated glow. “You can start every day exactly how you want to.” He kissed her hair, folding his fingers around hers. Her body was silky and hot and he could feel her blood pumping through her wildly still.

“If only that were true,” she mused. “It will be hard, you know, all that paperwork and clerical stuff you’re going to have to do.”

“Yes,” he agreed solemnly. He wasn’t looking forward to those aspects of being Hokage, but he knew that they were necessary for the success of the village. He had to make sure everything was perfect in this reality, and that meant expertly handling every aspect of leadership, even the boring stuff.

“I should probably get going then,” he said, making no move to leave the heat of Sakura’s side.

She flipped over, scooting closer to press her chest against his. “I think we should have one more round before you go,” she said, eyes glimmering. “You know, just in case I didn’t get pregnant the first time.”

“Just in case,” he echoed with a grin, and rolled on top of her.

///

The Hokage tower was nearly identical to the one from Sakura’s reality in part thanks to Hashirama’s perfected wood release, and partially because of Sakura’s memory of the layout. The one thing she had changed about it was the location of the Hokage office.

Instead of overlooking the village, the large bay window faced the cliffside. Madara hadn’t understood exactly why Sakura made this decision at the time. He figured that facing the village was the best arrangement so he would be able to keep his eye on it and any looming dangers.

But there was something immensely comforting to Madara about seeing the cliffside from his office. It had always been a special place to him, ever since he was a child. He remembered playing up there with Izuna, sparring with Hashirama, taking cat naps beneath the mighty oaks. He had met Sakura there, who also held the cliffside in a special place in her heart.

Both he and Hashirama had agreed that they would not mar the cliffside with the carved faces this time. It was vanity and hubris that could easily lead to their downfall. Ruling Konoha meant being selfless, and that meant not honoring himself with a giant stone face. If anyone deserved to be up there, it was Sakura, who was adamantly against her own face being up there (though she’d admitted to having no problem with Madara’s face up there).

Madara stared up at the cliffside now, reclined against his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest. The sun was beaming through the windows, gilding his office with a dusky warm glow.

“Hokage-sama.”

The smirk in the familiar voice made Madara turn his head. Izuna stood in the doorway, his shoulder braced against its frame.

“Good morning, brother,” Madara said, watching as Izuna took a seat on the opposite side of the desk.

“You can’t make a habit of being late every morning,” he said, though he appeared to be in a good mood.

Madara nodded in agreement. “I had an urgent matter to attend to,” he explained.

Izuna raised a brow.

“My wife is ovulating.”

Izuna’s expression faltered, but to Madara’s surprise he didn’t look as upset as he would have just a few weeks ago. It seemed that Madara’s coronation as Hokage had swayed his opinion of her more favorably, though for some reason he still seemed to be a little cold toward her.

“Hasn’t she proved herself enough to you?” Madara asked. “Why is my word not good enough to convince you that she’s trustworthy?”

“I don’t distrust her,” Izuna said, bristling. “I understand what you see in her now. She definitely helped lift you up; I can’t dispute her value to you.”

Madara narrowed his gaze. “Then why do you treat her so coldly?”

“It’s one thing to accept what she’s capable of,” Izuna said, “but she’s not an Uchiha. How will the Uchiha bloodline stay pure when our clan head is marrying outside? How can we trust her with our family’s secrets?”

If Izuna knew that Sakura had read the entire contents of the stone tablet beneath the Uchiha compound, he’d probably have had an aneurism. If he even knew the contents of the tablet he’d become belligerent.

“It’s too late not to trust her with them,” Madara pointed out. “She knows them all. In fact she probably understands them even better than we do. She was a bit obsessed with the last living Uchiha from her reality.”

This didn’t seem to quell Izuna’s fears. “Last living Uchiha?” he asked.

Madara waved his hand dismissively. “A long story,” he said. “A fate we’re doing our best to avoid now.”

Izuna looked intrigued, but he didn’t ask and Madara didn’t offer. He wasn’t sure he could share all of that information without feeling the sorts of emotions that would drag darkness across his skull.

For a moment a curious kind of silence filled the air. Izuna’s features were drawn taut, but Madara didn’t quite understand what for.

Izuna glanced to the window, his gaze lifted to the sky above the cliffside. “Do you think she could awaken my Mangekyou, too?” he asked.

Madara smiled, pleasantly surprised by his brother’s enthusiasm for that. A handful of Uchihas had already volunteered to be Sakura’s next project, though she had put all of her research on hiatus until the village could be properly settled.

And with a little one on the way she’d have even less time for research.

“You’d have to ask her,” Madara explained. “I’m not sure if she can.”

“She did it for you, didn’t she?”

“It’s not just a simple flush of her chakra,” Madara said, unwilling to explain the better details of it all. “I don’t know if she can do it for you, too, so you should ask her yourself.”

Izuna frowned, his finger pressed against his mouth with frustration.

As if on cue, Sakura rounded the corner and barreled into the office. Her gaze fell first on Madara, at whom she beamed widely, her cheeks flushed with adorable warmth that made Madara’s core twitch. It then landed on Izuna and she cleared her throat.

“I was just looking for you, Izuna,” she said to both of their surprise.

“Me?” Izuna asked.

She nodded. “We just wrapped up a council meeting,” she said. “I’ve been working since we formed the damn council to get a vote on an issue very important to me. The results of that vote are now in.”

“What vote?” Madara demanded.

“I didn’t think it was fair that the council didn’t have an Uchiha representative,” she explained.

“You are an Uchiha,” Madara said incredulously. It had never even occurred to him when the council was formed that he should want more than just Sakura representing him. He glanced over at Izuna, feeling a stab of guilt. When the village had formed the council with all of the clan heads, it was only natural for Madara to be excluded as Hokage, but Sakura’s seat on the council had been a given.

“It’s not the same, though, is it?” Sakura asked. “I can’t represent the Uchiha clan, especially not this one. If it was Sasuke’s, maybe I could – a clan I helped restore from the ground up. But I’m still a stranger to most of your clan. Izuna should be the one representing them.”

Izuna took a step toward her, his face drawn into a serious expression. “The council agreed it should be me?”

“The council could be persuaded to agree on anyone, I think,” Sakura said with a knowing smile, “but to me it seemed only natural that the job should fall to you. Without an heir, you’re next in line after Mada-kun.”

The mention of an heir shifted the expression on Izuna’s face from one of skepticism to one of utter surprise.

“You’ll be having children soon,” Izuna said. It wasn’t a question, though he seemed vaguely unsure, like he hadn’t believed Madara before.

“Nine months from now, I hope,” she replied with a grin. Madara’s heart could have floated right out of his chest. “So can I tell the council that you will do it? Or at least send me back with a suggestion for an alternative.”

“I’ll do it, of course,” Izuna said hastily.

Madara grinned approvingly. “Perfect,” he said. “Izuna, walk her back to the council room. You two can finally stop being so frigid with one another.”

Sakura scowled at him, which only made him grin wider. “You know sometimes, Mada-kun, you can just mind your own business.”

Madara boomed with laughter, remembering all the times he’d goaded her into discussing her terse relationship with Izuna. He couldn’t understand why they didn’t get along, and neither of them wanted to talk about the issue regardless of how many times Madara had brought it up.

It had annoyed him before, but today he found it rather amusing. At least he did now that it appeared to be going well for once.

Izuna turned away from Madara and held his arm out for Sakura. “Come on,” he said to her. “We don’t want to keep the council waiting.”

Sakura slid a furtive, knowing smirk in Madara’s direction as she slipped her hand into the crook of Izuna’s arm. “No,” she agreed, “and it seems that Shodaime-sama has another visitor.”

Madara felt electrified by the way his wife referred to him, but the feeling only lasted a moment. In the doorway to his office stood Tobirama, his jaw tight and fists clenched. His icy, furious eyes were focused on Izuna, and a bucket of fear dropped into Madara’s gut.

“We were just leaving, Tobirama-san,” Sakura said politely, tugging on Izuna’s arm.

Madara crossed around his desk, watching closely with glowing red eyes while Izuna and Sakura shrank past Tobirama’s rigid form and out into the hall.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Madara asked, glad that his voice didn’t betray the bitter rage that had lumped in his throat.

“It should be obvious,” Tobirama drawled, loosening his fists as he stepped into Madara’s office. The morning sun cast long shadows, stretching their dark silhouettes against the hardwood. “I think you and I would both agree that this is an unfair balance of power.”

Madara’s gaze narrowed. “No, I don’t think we agree,” he said calmly. “Hashirama and Mito are both on the council. It is fair that both Izuna and Sakura should be on it as well. Jealousy is unbecoming, Tobirama.”

It was unwise to provoke him, and Madara knew this. This wasn’t the Tobirama that had killed his brother, even though the similarities were plain as day. Sakura would have him extend an olive branch because she would be able to sympathize with Tobirama.

But Madara wasn’t so sure he could do that.

“I didn’t come here looking for a seat on the council,” Tobirama said. His restraint was loosening, but his anger also seemed to be deflating.

“Then what power did you come here to ask me for?” Madara demanded.

Tobirama glanced to the window, his gaze on the bottom of the cliff. “I want to oversee ANBU operations,” he said.

This idea hit Madara like a sack of bricks, sending a wave of darkness lashing about his skull. Danzo had used ANBU and ROOT to turn against the Uchiha clan, to blame their downfall on Itachi. He wouldn’t want those organizations run by anyone he didn’t trust, and the person currently at the top of that list was Tobirama.

“I had something different in mind for you, Tobirama,” Madara said. He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk. Tobirama gave him an uncertain glance before obliging him.

Madara sat down in his chair, his gaze sharp. As a general rule he didn’t like to lower his guard by deactivating his Sharingan around those he didn’t trust, but he felt that it could be used as a negotiation tactic here. It worked so well on Sakura, and Madara believed that she and the Senju were made of the same sun-dust.

Tobirama’s surprise at seeing the Sharingan red become a charcoal black lasted only a second. He did, however, seem to relax a bit, and Madara fought back a grin of triumph.

“What is it?” he asked skeptically.

“I’d like for you to run the academy,” Madara said. “You have a strong inclination toward law and order, and your rudimentary ninja skills are impeccable. You’re exactly the kind of man I need to mold the next generation of fine shinobi.”

Tobirama looked stunned, if a little displeased. “Hokage-sama, I really think I am better suited for some sort of active duty,” he protested.

“You can still join ANBU and also run the academy,” Madara bartered. “I’ve no doubt that there will be times when your skills need to be deployed. But I will also need your wisdom. The future of Konoha rests on those children you will teach. There are a lot of moving pieces, and I will have to lean on you for your knowledge of their skills and their ability to work together. I need you to build fluid, practiced teams of shinobi. An army. Do you understand?”

A looming cloud caused a shadow to fall across Tobirama’s face. Through the veil of darkness Madara could see his apprehension and an ignited determination underneath.

“We have to be able to protect Konoha,” Madara continued, sensing that he had not yet won Tobirama over. “We are still weakened from the war, and our strength contends with this hierarchy between the Senju and the Uchiha. We cannot let a clan rivalry impede us from doing everything we can to ensure Konoha’s success.”

“I understand, Hokage-sama,” Tobirama said, the calmness of his voice betrayed by the reddening clench of his fists. “But I think it is only fair that—”

“What’s fair is only what is in Konoha’s best interest,” Madara said. “If your interests lie in furthering Senju advancement, then perhaps I ought to find someone better suited to overseeing the academy.”

“I can do it,” Tobirama said tersely, but Madara was unconvinced of his loyalties. “Though I think the job is beneath me.”

Madara scoffed. “You once tried to put my wife in a cage,” he said. “I used to think that was beneath you, too.”

Tobirama had nothing to say to that, though he appeared chided and red.

“This might sound strange to you, Tobirama, but the man I admire most in this world is your brother,” Madara said. “He is wise and warm, and I truly believe he is one of the best that humankind has to offer. As Hokage, I imagine I’ll ask his advice often because I trust his judgment. It will be him, and not my brother, who is my right hand man. He doesn’t hold my clan against me the way that you do.”

“It is scientific fact that your clan is prone to violent rages—”

“You can take any scientific or medical questions to my wife and I’m sure she’d be more than happy to explain to you all the reasons why that is completely false,” Madara interrupted, feeling his patience grow thin. “I cannot allow someone with such poor judgment to lead ANBU operations. You will oversee the academy. Is that clear?”

Tobirama shot up to his feet, his teeth clenched tightly. “Crystal,” he seethed, bowing rigidly at the waist. “Is there anything else you need from me, Hokage-sama?”

Madara glared suspiciously at him, not trusting that there wasn’t anything up his sleeve. He hated to be at odds with Tobirama now that Konoha had formed, but the tension between them was still so thick.

Oh well, Madara thought to himself. At least Izuna and Sakura were finally getting along.

“No,” Madara said. “You’re dismissed.”

///


	48. Epilogue

At the very top of the Hokage tower, Madara had a spectacular view of the village on one side and the omnipresent loom of the cliffside on the other. It was his favorite place to be save for his bed which was shared with the comforting omnipresence of his wife.

There was a light rain misting across the village and a damp chill in the air behind it. The grey sky cast a dullness over everything, but Madara was able to appreciate the beauty in the brewing storm.

As he sat there, leaned against the railing, he surveyed the village, marveling at how far they had come in the last ten years. The residential district was booming now, civilians bursting from the seams. After the war had conclusively ended, many civilian families sought protection in Konoha’s walls. The village’s reputation as a safe haven pleased Madara.

There wasn’t much these days that displeased him, if he were honest. Sakura had been able to awaken his Rinnegan many years ago, and with that ultimate power he had the strength to protect everyone in Konoha. Nothing threatened him or his family or his village and that peaceful utopia he’d once dreamt up with Hashirama on the cliffside had become a reality.

“You know mom doesn’t like it when you come up here during thunderstorms,” said a familiar voice behind him.

Cursing at having been snuck up on, Madara tossed a kunai in the direction of his stealthy, nearly ten-year-old son. The boy deflected it with a kunai of his own, his face drawn into a serious pout.

“Chikyu,” Madara admonished. “What your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Chikyu dropped down from his perch on the tower’s spire, landing in a puddle near Madara’s feet. “Mom’s right,” he said, his dark eyes glowering. Though Chikyu had his mother’s eye shape and heart-shaped face, his charcoal eyes and raven black hair were entirely Uchiha. “It’s dangerous for you to be up here. Even if you managed to survive a lightning strike, you’d never hear the end of it.”

Madara glared half-heartedly at his son.

“She’s looking for you,” Chikyu said, ambling back toward the tower’s railing. “I won’t tell her where I found you,” he added before disappearing over the edge of the railing. Madara watched as he leapt toward the Uchiha compound, his dark silhouette bouncing from rooftop to rooftop.

A peal of thunder rang out across the trees. Madara glanced up at the darkening sky. He could see a crescent moon lurking just beyond the rolling clouds. Soon it would be covered with swollen clouds and a burst of heavy rain would pounds against the streets.

Perhaps he’d better get home to his wife and children.

///

The house was nearly silent when Madara entered. Only the lilting rain provided any sound, but Madara could sense a few resting bodies in his home. A trio of black cats skittered down the hallway as he made his way past the foyer.

Chikyu was holed away in his room. Hoshi, who had just recently turned eight, was in the kitchen chomping mindlessly away on rice pastries. Tsuki, who was proudly five years old, was humming softly from the comfort of the master bedroom.

Quietly, Madara slipped past the kitchen, down the hallway and into the bedroom where he found Sakura curled up on the bed. Her eyes were closed, though Madara could tell that she had only just dozed off. In her arms was cradled their youngest boy, Kusei, who was not quite two years old yet. Tsuki sat near Sakura’s feet, running his tiny fingers over Sakura’s swollen belly.

“Dad!” Tsuki exclaimed as Madara slipped baby Kusei from Sakura’s arms and brought him over to his crib.

“Shh,” Madara chided. “Your mother is trying to sleep.”

More quietly, Tuski repeated himself and tugged on Madara’s sleeve. “Dad, will you help me with my kunai practice now?” he asked while Madara placed the sleeping baby down and swaddled him in his blanket.

“Are you crazy?” Madara teased. “In this weather? We’ll practice first thing in the morning.”

Tsuki groaned. Madara tousled his hair affectionately. He plopped himself down on the bed beside Sakura and let out a tired sigh. Tsuki climbed onto the bed and leaned his back against Madara’s. Sakura’s swollen belly twitched, so Madara brought his palm to her stomach to feel his baby girl kick.

“When will the baby be here?” Tsuki asked.

“Any day now,” Madara replied. “I’m sure your mother will be grateful to have another girl around.”

“You think we are too much for her?” Tsuki asked. Madara could feel him curling against his side, warm and heavy with sleepiness.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” slurred Sakura, who absently raked her fingers through Madara’s hair and then dragged him closer to kiss his forehead. “I never met an Uchiha I couldn’t handle.”

“And we’re not an easy bunch to manage, I bet,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on her moving belly. “Tsuki wants to know when the baby will be here.”

Her hand came up to cover his, moving it across her round stomach. “By the end of the week for sure,” she said. “Are you excited to have a little sister, Tsuki?”

“Not really,” Tsuki said. Madara felt his tiny shrug against his back and laughed. “Girls are yucky.”

“Am I yucky?” Sakura asked.

Tsuki gave another tiny shrug. “You’re not really a girl.”

Sakura let out an offended scoff as Madara laughed, pulling the blankets up tighter around the three of them. He could hear Kusei’s soft snoring from the crib and the heavy pounding rain against the window.

And not a trace of darkness was in his skull.

///

It was easy to grow accustomed to life as Hokage. With Sakura by his side he felt more confident in his decisions, yet more critical of himself. He found himself constantly working on ways to improve life for her, to bring her the luxuries of the life she left behind for him. In turn he found himself always coming up with new ideas for the village, new ways to make life better for everyone.

Slipping into the role felt right. Once he’d thought that he was ill suited for it, that it was a desire for power that drove him to want the title. He realized now that his motivations had changed. Where once he craved power for power’s sake, now he felt only determination to protect those under his care.

Sakura referred to this as the Will of Fire. Madara preferred to think of it as a natural instinct to protect.

Whatever it was, it sharpened Madara’s senses as he sat in his office chair, facing the window. A pinprick of chakra caught his attention, something unfamiliar, something right here inside the Hokage tower.

Curious but not alarmed quite yet, Madara rose to his feet. The village was still dark, though the sun would begin to rise any second.

A sparkle of strange chakra hovered somewhere nearby, elusive, blipping in and out of Madara’s sensory reach. Growing more concerned, Madara wandered out into the hallway, trying to catch this disappearing chakra.

Something about it was familiar in a hard to determine kind of way. Though he had no reason to be trusting of whatever this foreign chakra was, he felt a warmth in it that kept him from panicking.

He rounded the corner of the hall, following the chakra until he found himself climbing the rungs of the ladder that lead up onto the roof. Blazing with curiosity, he stepped out onto the roof, his Rinnegan scanning for whatever was amiss.

His gaze landed on a pack, a leather drawstring pack the likes of which he hadn’t seen in over a decade.

“What’s this?” he asked himself as he cautiously reached for the pack. His heart leapt up into his throat as he neared it and saw a note pinned to the front.

“Sakura,” it read. He plucked the note from the pack, his fingers trembling. The words were scrawled hastily on the gridded paper, but Madara recognized the Hokage’s seal at the bottom immediately. It was from Tsunade.

“Sakura,” he read from the note. “I hope this reaches you. If not, I’ll never know. We managed to get a read of your current reality thread for a brief moment and used it to send your pack to you. Well, Shizune did most of the work. There are a lot of things I wish I could say, but unfortunately I don’t have time – we could lose your thread at any second. We all love and miss you, Sakura. We hope you are safe.”

Tsunade’s seal and signature adorned the bottom. His hand still shaking, Madara lowered the page and glanced down at the pack. Sakura had told him years ago what she’d put in there, and he’d long since forgotten. Except for one thing. His Rinnegan. He knew the Madara from Sakura’s reality had left these behind and Sakura had stolen them.

With no small amount of trepidation, Madara crouched down and un-cinched the pack’s closing. It was stuffed to the brim with all sorts of books and papers, jars, medical equipment, inoculations for well-known diseases.

At the bottom of the pack, Madara felt the cool glass jar that must have been what he was looking for. Slowly, he pulled it out of the pack and into the burgeoning morning light.

Two purple eyeballs floated listless in the jar’s liquid. Madara swallowed the lump in his throat as he stared at them. The sight of them made him very uneasy, and for a brief moment he wondered what he should even do with them now that he’d already awakened his Rinnegan in this reality.

And then he was struck by a marvelous idea.

///

Sakura’s face was grim as she read the note, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. It had been over a decade since she had seen her friends and family, and Madara knew she must have missed them. At least this was something, though Madara hated seeing her upset like this.

She reverently removed each item from the pack, cooing and delighting over each one. Madara had replaced the Rinnegan inside before he’d handed it all over to her, and now he watched her pull them from the pack with rapt attention.

The very last item in the pack, she set it down on the kitchen table and flicked her gaze up toward Madara who stood beside her.

“Maybe Chikyu can use these when the time comes,” she suggested, her voice tentative as she gauged Madara’s feelings on the matter. He could feel her chakra nascent beneath the skin of her fingertips, which were pressed delicately to his wrist.

He shook his head. “These Rinnegan aren’t as powerful as the ones you awakened for me,” Madara said.

“I suppose so,” she agreed. “Perhaps we’d better just hang onto them for now?”

Madara shook his head again. “Do you think you could wield them?”

Sakura’s eyes widened with surprise, her gaze drifting up from the jarred Rinnegan to her husband’s face. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” he said, smiling as he sat down at the table beside her. “I think the colors might suit you.”

She gave him a disapproving look, appearing quite flustered. “It could be dangerous,” she said. “I don’t have the bloodlines required to—”

“Nothing is really an obstacle to you, is it, Sunflower?” he teased. “Imagine my wife, the matriarch of the Uchiha clan, wielder of the Rinnegan. It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? You have more working knowledge of the doujutsu than anyone else. These are technically your eyes, anyway—”

“Technically they are yours,” she argued.

“And since everything I have is yours, that means they are equally yours,” Madara bartered.

Sakura looked pensively down into her lap, her lower lip worried between her pearly teeth. “I’ll think about it,” she said, her gaze flicking one last time to the jarred eyes on the table. She then blinked and looked back up at Madara’s face.

“I can’t believe Tsunade-sama managed to get this here,” she said, her eyes glazed over with nostalgia. “The note said they managed to get a read on this reality. What do you think that means?”

Madara shrugged. “Maybe the moon guided them?” he suggested.

Sakura didn’t look so sure. “After all these years?” she asked. “It just seems strange. I wish she’d had the time to write me a proper letter.”

Madara hummed in agreement. “Ten years have passed here since you arrived,” he said. “How many years do you think have passed in your reality?”

Her brow furrowed and she tossed him a confused, curious look. “If time moves at the same rate as it did when we were separated, then probably around forty years,” she explained.

They both fell silent, their eyes on the pack and its contents spread all over the table. It was as much a mystery to them as the moon had ever been, but instead of fear and uncertainty, warmth and love exuded from it. Madara felt a burst of affection for Tsunade, who cared so deeply for her pupil, and then for Hashirama, whose radiance was somehow contagious and genetic, and then finally for his wife. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.

“I bet they miss you,” he said softly and then kissed her palm. “Should I feel guilty for stealing you away?”

Sakura demurred and Madara did feel a stab of guilt when a wave of pained wistfulness flitted across her face.

“I do miss them very much,” she confessed, “but I never could have been happy anywhere but by your side.” 

She rose from her chair and skirted around the table’s corner to sit against it, her leg brushing against Madara’s, her swollen belly between them. She slipped her hands into his and then brought his fingers to rest against her temples. Her palms pressed against the back of his hands, holding them against her face.

“Whenever I miss them too much,” she said, her voice catching on emotion, “whenever it hurts, I just think of you. You may not even know it, Mada-kun, but you take away my darkness, too.”

Madara had been blessed with the privilege of being her husband for an entire decade now, but she still found ways to send his heart into a whirling frenzy. Using his grip on her face, he pulled her forward into a series of soft, dreamy kisses.

He could have held her like that for hours, kissed all her pain away and reminded her just how much he loved her and why it had been worth it to give up her previous life.

They were interrupted, however, by a slew of familiar chakra signatures.

“Eww!” screeched a chorus of children as they paraded into the kitchen and dumped their backpacks onto the floor.

With a grin, Madara pulled away from his wife to glance at his unruly children.

“Come tell us about your day at the academy,” Madara said, giving his wife’s rear a firm pinch as she began to clear the items from the kitchen table. “Hoshi, you’ve been preparing for the Chuunin exams, haven’t you?” A more controlling and strict side of him wanted to train Hoshi for the exams himself, but to Madara’s pleasant surprise, Tobirama had acclimated well to his role as academy instructor. It sometimes even seemed like Hoshi was his favorite pupil.

As the children began to gather around the table, Sakura bustled around the kitchen to prepare dinner. Madara eased back in his chair with a contented sigh, listening to his sons argue over who was better with their fireball jutsu. His eyes lingered on his wife’s body. 

She looked glorious when pregnant, and she nested hard. It was feverishly that she tended to things, wildly that she made love to him. She was always cooking and cleaning and nursing. Pregnancy made her tongue sharper and her tolerance for Madara’s antics much lower, which reminded him of how hostile she had been when they had first met. He’d missed their flirtatious banter, and Sakura never seemed truly annoyed with him.

Kusei began to cry from the other room, so Madara rose to his feet.

“I’ll get him,” Hoshi said, glaring at Chikyu as he shoved his chair away from the table. Madara’s gaze flicked between them. He could see now that they would be good brothers and great rivals.

Hoshi disappeared and Madara found his gaze back on his wife’s rear. She tended to something on the stove, and feeling his gaze on her she turned to look at him. Her face was radiant, her eyes focused pinpoints of warmth on his face. She smiled – a sight he could never tire of.

“Can you come stir this while I chop the vegetables?” she asked.

He went to the stove, obedient, lured by his wife’s beautiful body. His hands found her ass, then her waist. He bent down and kissed the side of her neck. When he pulled away, Sakura reached up and pulled him back down by his hair. He chuckled and pressed another kiss to her cheek and curled his palms around her belly.

“You’re about to pop,” he murmured, reaching for the spoon over Sakura’s shoulder. “You know what that means?”

She stood in the circle of his arms, probably melting in the heat of his body and the stove and her looming belly. Her feet shuffled; she twisted around to face him, mindful of the boiling pot behind her. 

“We’ll have a daughter?” she asked.

He smiled. “Yes, we’ll have a daughter,” he agreed. “And that means we can try for another boy.”

Sharp pain radiated in his ribs. Her eyes blazed fiercely as she pulled her hand away from him. He winced for her benefit, though he was sure she easily saw through it.

“As if I need more boys!” she shrieked, pushing out of the cage of his arms to fetch vegetables to chop. Madara watched with amusement, keeping his eye on the pot on the stove. He wouldn’t mind having ten daughters if they all turned out like their mother. He glanced down at her belly, which was rather in her way as she sliced carrots.

His daughter was in there. So far all of his children had come out with dark hair and dark eyes, though their resemblance to their mother was still apparent. He wondered, though, if he might have a daughter with pink hair or green eyes. Would she perhaps look a bit like Madara’s mother, whom he could hardly remember at this point?

A flare of his wife’s chakra commanded his attention.

Sakura dropped the knife in her hand; it clattered to the floor dangerously close to her bare feet. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the countertop.

“Baby?” He bent down and grabbed the knife from the floor and tossed it into the sink. His hands were on her a second later, whirling her to face him. “Are you going into labor?” he asked. Her eyes were squeezed shut and he’d done this enough times to know she was bracing against the pain of a contraction.

The silence in the kitchen told him that the children were alerted as well. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that they were all looking at their mother, even Hoshi who had returned with Kusei on his hip.

“You guys ready to have a sister?” Madara asked.

///

Arashi Uchiha was the first Uchiha to be born with pink hair. Though the thought had perturbed him as far as it related to his sons, he was absolutely delighted that his angelic daughter was born with the cotton candy colored hair he adored so much on Sakura.

Sakura, too, had been greatly amused, though the shade of pink was far darker than hers, and the baby’s eyes were even darker than Madara’s – black as night.

She was a feisty baby, which Madara hadn’t even imagined possible. Though his boys could be rowdy, Arashi was something else entirely. As a baby, she cried often, demanding to be held, commanding all the attention in the room.

As a toddler she was a nightmare, always getting into messes, destroying her brothers’ things, disappearing in those brief moments when no one could keep their eye on her. She grew into a brash girl, both roughened and spoiled by her lot of older brothers.

Sakura, who seemed to thrive having a daughter, mentioned in passing that she felt bad that Arashi would have trouble dating when she came of the age. Being the daughter of the Uchiha patriarch and having four older brothers made her seem like a bit of a risk.

Madara shuddered at the thought that men might one day want to defile his little girl. He was secretly pleased that dating her would seem daunting.

So it was to his utter horror that Arashi grew older and blossomed into a young woman who was strikingly similar to her mother. How could he have presumed that any children of Sakura’s would come out anything less than stunning? His sons, too, were handsome – the best combinations of Sakura’s natural beauty and Madara’s aristocratic features.

Arashi’s beauty was an exotic kind, but it wasn’t the only thing about her that came from Sakura. Arashi’s skills as a shinobi rivaled her older brothers’. Her determination to prove herself was so overwhelmingly strong that she had awakened her own Sharingan at age three without Sakura’s help. She had beaten Kusei in a heated spar and been so proud of her victory.

Sakura found this concerning, especially at her young age, but Madara knew that his daughter was something special. She was advancing quicker than her brothers, learning not just the Uchiha clan’s techniques and skills, but also Sakura’s chakra control and medical techniques, which none of his sons had any interest in learning.

She was becoming formidable, and now at age seventeen she was beautiful. A true danger indeed, just like her mother. Secretly, Madara admitted to himself that Arashi was his favorite child.

And so when he’d heard that a boy was interested in his daughter, he felt a slew of negative feelings that he’d been able to repress for decades before. Rage, dread, fear, anxiety all swept across his skull like a chilling wave.

Sakura refused to give up the boy’s name, knowing what Madara might do, but sleuthing up that information had been easy. Chikyu had been all to eager to explain that it was Hashirama’s oldest son that had expressed interest in Arashi.

Madara, still dressed in his Hokage robe and hat, had marched straight down to the Senju compound to demand an explanation from Hashirama.

“What does your pervert son want with my daughter?” he barked, flinging his hat into Hashirama’s chest.

“The same thing your pervert ass wanted with her mother, I presume,” Hashirama teased, snatching the hat from Madara’s hand. “Come on now, she could do much worse. Nikko is an ANBU captain and—”

“He’s nearly ten years older than her!”

“So?”

Madara pouted, crossing his arms over his chest whilst giving Hashirama the driest of glares.

“If I tell him to stay away from her, it will only make him want her more,” Hashirama cautioned. “Besides, you don’t even know if Ara-chan is interested. The problem might solve itself.”

Madara didn’t like the sound of that, but it had been a while since he had seen Hashirama and he suddenly found himself comforted by his company. It had been ages since he’d been to the Senju compound, and there was something inherently cozy and serene about Hashirama’s front porch.

Without asking permission, Madara sank down into a rocking chair and heaved a sigh. Hashirama took the chair beside him and they both gazed out into the early evening sky. Their friendship had never faltered over the years. Even through their downs their bond was unshakable, and Madara couldn’t help but wonder how things had all gone so wrong in Sakura’s reality.

“When we were just boys,” Hashirama said, his gaze still up on the sky, “talking about creating a world with no war, a village of peace, I never expected all this.”

Madara nodded and a comfortable silence settled around them for a moment.

“Did you accomplish everything you wanted, Madara?” Hashirama asked. “You’ve got your gorgeous wife and talented children, a sprawling compound, the title of Hokage, the Rinnegan, and a village full of happy people. Is there anything you’re missing?”

The question caught him by surprise. He felt lacking for nothing, he thought. As long as he had Sakura, he had everything. He owed all of it to her, and over the years he’d learned to be grateful for that instead of afraid of it. She was here, after all. Perhaps this world may have turned out differently if he’d never found her, but he had.

And he felt confident that life could go on without her. He’d been filled up by her infectious joy and unconditional love. He may not have survived without it, but he could survive now knowing that it had been wholly and completely his for so many years.

“I wish Sakura was here,” he mused aloud.

Hashirama laughed.

///

It was only three short years later that Arashi and Nikko had a child. Though Madara had been adamantly against their relationship from the start, he had warmed up to Nikko once he saw that Hashirama’s infectious warmth had obviously spread to his children as well.

Madara could never complain about the gentle grace and affection that Nikko showed his daughter. Besides, Nikko had many Uchihas to answer to if he ever broke Arashi’s heart.

And while Izuna had initially been disgusted that the Uchiha bloodline was going to be mixed into the Senju’s, soon they all realized that this union of clans was a good thing. They were a more powerful tie this way – the Uchiha princess the matriarch of the Senju clan.

Shortly after their baby was delivered (Madara’s first grandchild thanks to his sons’ focus on training rather than marital affairs), Sakura brought it to him, swaddled in cloth. Arashi and Nikko were sleeping in the delivery room while Madara peered down at the little blonde haired, blue-eyed baby peeking up at him.

“You now what they named her?” Sakura asked, grinning as she sat down beside him, her leg pressed warmly against his.

He glanced at her and shook his head.

“Tsunade.”

With a grin, Madara cradled his granddaughter in his arms as Sakura rested her head against his shoulder. Her chakra was low, though she said the delivery had gone very well.

“Tsunade-chan,” he said with a laugh, shifting the baby against his chest. Sakura laughed, too, and they both reclined back against their chairs, enjoying this moment with their first grandchild.

“You’re going to teach her medical nin-jutsu, right?” Madara asked Sakura, his eyes still on little Tsunade’s face.

“Of course.”

Madara grinned. “Then someday you’re going to get to explain to her that she actually taught you everything you know,” he said. “Which means she indirectly will have taught herself everything she knows.”

Sakura gave him a dry look. “Hey, I learned some stuff on my own,” she said, then peered down into the swaddled cloth at the baby’s face. “I wonder if she’ll be anything like my Tsunade-sama.”

Madara wrapped his free arm around Sakura’s shoulder and pulled her closer to him. “I can’t wait to find out.”

///

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama and Madara share a granddaughter. How fucking cute is that.
> 
> Anyway, that wraps this bad boy up! This has been BY FAR my favorite fic to write, and obviously my most popular as well! I’m really glad you guys have enjoyed it. Your comments make me feel like I could just float right off the ground, so thank you.
> 
> I’d really like some constructive criticism on what the WORST parts about this fic were. You guys are always so nice and sweet, but knowing what I could improve on will make the next fic even better. ☺ Please let me know what things I can work on in the future, or what things you just didn’t like in general.
> 
> And thank you all so much for taking the time to read this obnoxiously long fic. It was a blast to write.


End file.
